Binge
by the author formerly known as
Summary: slash Edward/boy!Bella, Anticipation sequel. Char Swan has been to hell and back; friendship with a vampire feels safe compared to his past. As that past comes back to haunt him, Char finds that the one thing he truly needs protection from may be himself.
1. Chapter 1

**This story WILL NOT make sense without first having read "Anticipation." (Sorry!) :(**

**Warning: This story contains substance abuse, a homosexual romantic relationship, and mentions of rape.**

Chapter 1

The rainfall was gentle. I listened to it, content, before cracking open one eye to see how my room looked in the dim morning light. I stretched my arms over my head, fingers brushing the wall as I rolled onto my back. I thought quietly for a few minutes, and then as usual remembered:

Jason Northwood was dead.

Everyday it became easier to think his name. Everyday my heart felt a little lighter in the morning, as if I had rediscovered the same treasure a hundred times now and each time was as glorious as the last. Yes, each new day with his diminishing shadow was better than the last.

Getting out of bed in the mornings had never been so easy. Going to school beneath Forks' rainy sky had never been so bright.

Maybe that wasn't true- I would still have given anything to go back to before he'd ruined my life. I still woke sometimes in a cold sweat, his voice echoing in my head. I couldn't truly say life was perfect, but I liked to think that it was as close to it as it could be for someone with a past like mine.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted a gruff looking Charlie at the table when I finally ventured downstairs.

"Happy birthday," he muttered in response.

I had forgotten. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

Charlie sighed and drank his coffee in silence while I ate breakfast. I suspected that there was more to come because the silence felt heavy, but nothing could make me miserable.

Finally Charlie spoke. "Your mother thought I should get you a camera for your birthday."

"What? Why? I mean... not that I have anything against cameras," I added, not wanting to seem ungrateful if he had in fact gotten me one.

"That's what I said. But I thought that you might appreciate this more."

I looked around. I didn't see anything.

"Uh... appreciate what?"

Charlie hefted a long, thin box up from the floor by his feet. It was wrapped, although it seemed rather last minute, with tape sticking out oddly in a place or two. The paper more or less fell away without much effort on my part.

Beneath the wrapping. was a heavy wood case with a complex closing mechanism. I fiddled with it until I finally had the catch undone, quickly lifting the lid to see my gift.

A gun.

"Awww yes, _thank you so much._"

"_Char_." Even a kid as often misbehaved as me can't ignore a tone like that. I looked up, tearing my eyes away from the double barreled rifle with considerable effort. "It's not a toy," Charlie said disapprovingly.

"Right-o."

"I don't want you fooling around with it. It's for-"

"Target practice and hunting should I ever take it up, okay, Dad, okay."

"And now you need to go to school," he added.

"But-"

I didn't want to go now.

"_Go_."

But I probably shouldn't press my luck.

"Ugghhh, okay."

I sensed that the school day might be long. It wasn't until I was driving away that I regretted, briefly, how flippant I'd been. Giving their sons a gun for a birthday was something I suspected many fathers did, but it showed an amount of trust on Charlie's part that I didn't realize I'd gained, and given my past wasn't sure I'd earned.

Still, I wasn't about to complain.

I was distracted as I drove, and made it to school later than usual. I slid into my seat in my first period class with only a few minutes to spare. Edward was already there.

"Happy birthday."

"Charlie got me a gun."

Edward was used to my less than stellar conversational skills, so I assumed that the appalled look on his face was a direct result of my gift and not the fact that I hadn't acknowledged his greeting.

"And thanks," I added as that occurred to me.

"That's... dangerous," Edward finally said, mouth said in a grim line. "You realize it's not a toy, right?"

"Yeah," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Thanks Dad. I got it."

Edward didn't respond for a long time, and I could tell he was trying to decide what to say. He did this often, especially lately, and I wondered what was going on. Our friendship had only grown stronger over the summer, and I felt as close to him as I did to my best friends from back home in Phoenix. In some ways I felt closer to Edward than I did to them- I felt indebted to him for everything he'd done for me, and alternatively awed and grateful that he would put so much on the line for me. Still, there were parts of me that Edward still didn't know, and there were definitely parts of him that I didn't know. Sometimes Edward would become quiet, as he was now, and I worried about why- if this were Glen, Matt or Ben, the best friends I'd grown up with, I'd probably be able to guess what they were thinking. And it didn't happen often that they had to think before they spoke with me. I wondered what Edward was filtering out when he got like this.

"I just don't want you to shoot your own foot off or something," he finally told me with a crooked grin.

I laughed, but a voice in my head asked why it took so long to come up with a comment like that.

Still, nothing could keep me down for long. Jason Northwood was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The rifle's discharge was the crack of thunder Forks' rainy sky had been threatening. The gunshot made me think of desert landscape rife with shouting, or bloodswept fields of burning cotton, and for some reason Glen's smiling face. The sound of a rifle was pure glory. Unlike my aim.

I cursed, my arm falling to my side as I stared at the still-standing pop cans I had set up across the lawn. I was standing under the deck watching the rain soak into the earth between shots, as I had been doing since I got home. Charlie had made me promise not to use the gun for anything except hunting and target practice. At the rate this was happening, I wondered if I would give up disheartened before I was good enough to try my hand at hunting with a rifle.

Edward sighed, and I could hear him pushing off the wall he was leaning against somewhere behind me.

His voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, Edward murmured, "You're holding the gun wrong."

"I know how to hold a gun," I told him curtly, lifting the rifle once more to sight down the barrel.

"This arm should be... higher," Edward said, placing a hand under my elbow and adjusting the angle. "And you should turn a bit more."

He gently propelled me by nudging my shoulder.

I glanced back at him, noting the dark look on his face despite the kindness in his tone. Edward didn't like me having a gun, I could tell. I wondered what he thought I would do with it, hating that he couldn't trust me more. I turned back to my target and Edward's hand shot out quickly, stopping me.

"Not so close to your chin," he admonished me. "You could hurt yourself," he added a bit more gently.

"Right-o," I said, firing the rifle after moving the gun slightly from my face. I missed, as usual, but I had to admit as the bullet whistled through the leaves and tiny branches just above my targets that Edward's suggested stance had made a difference.

"Better," Edward noted as I sighed.

"Yeah. I think that's quite enough for today, though," I decided. I ignored the blatant relief on Edward's face as we headed inside.

"Do you and Charlie have plans for tonight?" Edward asked.

"No, I think we'll probably go out to eat closer to the weekend. It's not like either of us could bake a cake or make anything particularly good."

Edward paused and then said, "You can cook."

"Yeah. The issue is can I cook _well_?"

Edward snorted at that. "If you _aren't_ doing anything, my family would love for you to come over. Alice in particular. She's planned an entire party, I think."

I groaned. "I don't _want _a party, Edward."

"They won't be too bothersome..." he said doubtfully. "Please? Come on, be nice, it'd be the first real birthday they've been able to celebrate since Emmett. They're all very excited."

I vaguely recalled Edward telling me that Emmett had joined the family in 1935. I guess it did seem like they might be getting rather bored. My birthday would probably be one tiny spark in the monotony of hundreds of years. It was a little startling to put it in that perspective, so I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

Edward grinned then, just as Charlie was coming in the door. He greeted us tiredly, muttering something about being late. "Game's about to start..." he muttered. I sensed that he wasn't sure if he should be more attentive to me on my birthday, but I knew he'd be poor company anyway if a game was on his mind.

"It's alright, I think I'm going to head over to the Cullens' for a bit, Dad."

He nodded, inching toward the living room and the television.

"Alright, well, have fun... Put that away properly first, though," he added with a nod of his chin toward my birthday gift from him.

"Sure thing."

Edward waited patiently as I did so. We drove my truck out to his home, and he fiddled with the radio with a frown on his face. "Your radio gets terrible reception."

"If you want a nice stereo you can drive your own car."

We drove in silence for a few moments more when Edward ventured, "I should warn you... When I say all of them, I do mean all of them."

"I thought Rosalie and Emmett had gone to Africa." The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullen kids were at Dartmouth for university, but I knew that Jasper had stayed behind with Alice and Rosalie and Emmett were traveling.

"Rosalie wanted to be here for your birthday, even Emmett seems a little pumped."

I had to grin at that. Emmett and I had gotten off to a rough start, but once I'd gotten to know him and his blunt humour it was difficult _not_ to like him.

When we reached the Cullens we found the entire family gathered about Edward's grand piano, atop which was sitting a three-tiered cake decorated elegantly in a bright array of colours. There was a tiny pile of glass plates and presents sitting on a coffee table next to it.

"Alice," I sighed, knowing she was the one behind it. "How do you expect one person to eat this much cake on their own?"

"Oh, I think you'll manage," she told me happily, hugging me around the waist. Truth be told, I often wondered whether Alice liked me or the idea of me. Sometimes she acted as if she wanted nothing more than for me to leave her family alone. Other times, she was like this. Edward assured me that it was because of her visions. "_Something about your future affects us in a way she doesn't like, but she's fond of you, I promise._" It made me as nervous as it made me relieved to hear him say it. The worst part was that Edward couldn't tell me what was in the future that bothered Alice because she blocked him out of her visions most of the time.

"Happy birthday, Char," Alice said as she was pulling away from me.

"Thanks, Alice."

The other Cullens stepped forward to wish me a happy birthday, except for Jasper who lingered against the back wall as he greeted me. I had thought that the time we spent cooped up together in a hotel in Phoenix would make him less averse to me, but it seemed I'd only somehow managed to make him hate me. Edward assured me that it was the blood, but I still remembered the way his face had shut down when I snapped at him.

"Ok, time for presents," Alice said immediately when everyone finished, nearly cutting Esme off at the end of her sentence.

"Ours first," Rosalie insisted.

"I'm just going to step outside for a minute," Emmett announced loudly, winking conspicuously at Jasper and Rosalie.

"Subtle," I complemented him.

Rosalie smiled at that, handing me a box that was surprisingly light for its size. I tugged at the tape on the sides gently until the paper could fall away without me looking like a fool for ripping it off.

Inside was a box covered in numbers and ridiculous complicated labels. The box was empty, I saw when I opened it.

"Thanks, guys... Just what I wanted..." I said, my confusion evident in my voice.

Rosalie and Jasper laughed.

"It's a new radio for your truck," Jasper told me. "Emmett's installing it now."

I chuckled a bit at that. Edward's complaints on the way here had all been a setup, clearly. "Thanks, Jasper, Rosalie... Emmett."

I didn't bother raising my voice though Emmett was outside in my truck, apparently. I knew he would hear me. His loud laughter was an indication that I was right.

"Ok," Alice said excitedly. "Now for mine and Edward's gift."

She handed me a tiny, silver-wrapped parcel. I looked curiously between her and Edward, wondering what it could be if they'd gotten it together.

Emmett crowded in just then, grinning and jostling people aside in the circle around me so he could watch me open it.

I slipped my finger under the wrapper. As happens with paper cuts, I didn't feel it immediately. As I was pulling the paper away though, the sudden sting made me drop the gift and hiss in pain. I lifted my finger to examine it. A single drop of bright red blood oozed slowly from my skin.

I heard Jasper's feral growl before anything else. Edward crashed into me as Jasper leaped for my bleeding hand, drawn by the scent of blood like a frenzied animal. Edward flung me across the table, sending the plates and glass scattering across the floor below me. Jasper followed soon after, impacting Edward's back with such force that it made a sound like a gun going off. I saw his face above Edward's shoulder, just inches from my own, and for a moment my disorientation had me seeing the wrong face, one friendlier and more familiar- then Jasper snapped at my nose with his teeth, just barely missing, and I was reminded that in many ways, he _was _the frenzied animal he reminded me of.

And then Emmett was suddenly there, his arms wrapping around Jasper like iron chains. He heaved his brother away and Rosalie had to help him remove the struggling Jasper from the room, her hand covering her own mouth to mask the scent. I saw her cast a concerned look my way as she departed with her snarling brother.

I shoved gently against Edward, the feeling sending a shot of pain up my arm. When I looked down I saw that the broken glass plates had sliced deeply into my skin. Blood streamed down my arm, and when I looked up again Alice was gone, probably to find Jasper, and Esme was leaving with a look of shame on her face.

"I'm sorry, Char," she told me, and covered her nose and mouth as she exited.

Carlisle stepped closer, and Edward growled, a low rumble deep in his chest. Carlisle paused, but I only rolled my eyes.

"He's the doctor around here, isn't he?" I muttered against Edward's shoulder, still pinning me to the table.

Edward studied me warily, standing slowly and helping me up with him. His eyes roamed long over my arm, checking the seriousness of my injury. Or watching the trickle of blood.

"You should go talk to Jasper," I told him, knowing that the smell was probably driving him wild. He seemed to sense the truth, though, and his jaw tensed.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Go talk to Jasper," I repeated. "Tell him I don't blame him. You'd be more useful doing that than standing here in agony."

"You're probably the only one he'll listen to, Edward," Carlisle put in. Edward glared at us in silence.

"Go... Please."

Edward's dark eyes were grudging, but he left the room when I asked this time. I watched his broad back retreat out the door, staring until he was only another patch of darkness in the already black night


	3. Chapter 3

To the person whom I told a long time ago that a specific event would occur in this chapter: I counted wrong. Oops! It happens in chapter 4! Only one more chapter...\

Oh, and for the record, Carlisle's dialogue is taken almost exactly from the book. He's honestly the character I feel the least comfortable writing, so I just let his voice stay as it was when he was originally written.

**Chapter 3**

Carlisle's cool hand gripped my elbow. He tore a strip from the end of the tablecloth that before had been a pristine white, knotting it about my arm to make a tourniquet.

"Should I take you to the hospital?" Carlisle asked, his years of experience apparent in his calm and authoritative tone.

"Can you just stitch me up here?" I asked, feeling my head grow lighter. I desperately wanted to sit down somewhere, aware that my legs were growing weaker beneath me.

Carlisle led me to the kitchen where I lowered myself with very little grace into a chair. Alice appeared suddenly with a black, nondescript bag. She smiled thinly at me before disappearing.

"Thank you, Alice," Carlisle said, though she was gone. I knew, though, as I was sure Carlisle did, that she heard anyway.

Carlisle pulled up a second chair and began to work immediately, bending over my arm. I winced at the sting of pain, but after a few moments I became used to it.

"I'm sorry about this, Carlisle," I said after a moment, unsure what else I could do. I had accidentally cleared his entire family out of the house and no doubt the smell of my blood lingering in their living room would be all too noticeable to their ultra sensitive senses. I thought of Edward coming home at the end of the day and walking through the front door to the fading scent of my spilled blood, and winced. A paper cut is hard to avoid. But still- a little more caution wouldn't have been undo in the Cullens' home.

"It's not your fault," Carlisle comforted me with a chuckle. "It could happen to anyone."

The phrase caught me like a blow to the chest, and I was stricken with a sudden sense of deja vu- unbidden I thought of darkness and the smell of salt and leather. _But it happened to me, not _anyone.

I shook my head to clear it, shrugging in response to Carlisle's words at the same time. For a moment that seemed infinite the only sound was the clinking of glass as Carlisle removed chunks of it from my arm and dropped it onto the table. I watched Carlisle with fascination. His movements were quick and sure, and his face was set in calm concentration. The blood didn't seem to affect him at all. I looked away when he glanced up at me, staring at the far wall. My face must have betrayed my thoughts, at least partially.

"You look perplexed," Carlisle offered.

"It doesn't bother you," I said quietly. He knew at once what I meant.

"Years of practice. I barely notice the scent anymore."

The quiet _plink_ of glass dropping onto the table continued. I was surprised by how much glass there seemed to be in my arm. The silence began to unnerve me, and I struggled to find something to say.

"Why medicine?" I finally ventured, even though I was certain Carlisle would be able to tell I just needed him to talk about _anything_, anything at all to get my mind off the awkwardness of the moment. "It's not difficult now after all your practice, as you say, but it must have been difficult once. Why go through that?"

I looked down to see that Carlisle's dark eyes were very thoughtful. "I love my work... Hmm. What I enjoy the very most is when my… enhanced abilities let me save someone who would otherwise have been lost. It's pleasant knowing that, thanks to what I can do, some people's lives are better because I

exist. Even the sense of smell is a useful diagnostic tool at times." One side of his mouth pulled up in half a smile. I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the glass was out.

Something in Carlisle's statement reminded me of Edward. I frowned. The way he said it... _because I exist_.

"You make it sound like you need to make up for what you are."

Carlisle was rummaging around in his bag for new medical tools.

"You think so?" he asked.

"Well. I just mean- you didn't choose this life. It seems... it seems odd that you would be trying to make people's lives better just to prove your existence is... good," I finished lamely, my statement sounding jumbled and ineloquent even to me. "You shouldn't have to... It's amazing that you even thought to try a way of life... different from the obvious one, and yet you do all... all this. Beyond that."

Carlisle had leaned over my arm once more and was stitching it up- without looking, I recognized how it felt, the tug of the needle as it pulled the thread through my skin.

"There," Carlisle said, snipping a thread, "All done."

"Edward told you the story of how I came into this life, didn't he?" Carlisle asked, taping a long strip of gauze to my arm.

I nodded, reaching up to rub my nose. "Yeah."

When he'd finished wrapping my arm he shut his bag and looked up at me with a thoughtful expression.

"Then you know my father was a clergyman," he mused as he cleaned the table carefully, rubbing everything down with wet gauze, and then doing it again. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. "He had a rather harsh view of the world, which I was already beginning to question before the time that I changed." Carlisle put all the dirty gauze and the glass slivers into a empty crystal bowl. I didn't understand what he was doing, even when he lit the match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump. "Sorry," he apologized. "That ought to do it… So I didn't agree with my father's particular brand of faith. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other. Not even the reflection in the mirror."

I had never considered myself particularly religious. Charlie considered himself Lutheran, only because his parents had been. Renee had done her share of dabbling, but as with most things, nothing stuck. The closest thing to religious experience I had was what had rubbed off on me from Glen's Catholic faith, and the rosary he had given me after everything that happened. "_I know you won't use it_," I remembered him saying, "_I know you don't care. But you know how much it means to me, and you can wear it to know that I'm thinking of you._"

In truth, looking at that rosary and wondering why everything happened the way it did was the closest I'd ever come to praying.

"I realize this probably sounds a little bizarre, coming from a vampire," Carlisle said with a grin. "But I like to think that there's some point to this life, even if my all accounts we're damned regardless of what we do."

"No, that doesn't sound bizarre..." I answered quietly, remembering the rosary Edward had dropped in my garbage can, the one sitting unused in my closet. I still hadn't given it back. I still didn't quite understand why it had been put there.

"Is Edward religious?" I asked Carlisle, knowing I would never get the answer from Edward, but wanting to know, _needing_ to...

"Edward is with me up to a point," he told me. "God and heaven exist... and so does hell. But he doesn't believe there's an afterlife for our kind." Carlisle's voice was very soft, chillingly so. I followed his gaze out the window into the darkness beyond. "You see, he thinks we've lost our souls."

I contemplated that, scuffing my toes on the floor and dropping my eyes.

"Edward is a bit foolish sometimes," I decided finally, muttering under my breath.

Carlisle chuckled. "Well, he's not the first one to disagree with me. In fact... you're the first one who _has _agreed with me on any level," he said, giving me an appraising look.

I shrugged. "I'm not religious," I admitted, "But if I did believe in some afterlife... well, your family would be more deserving than humans I know... Edward disagrees, though," I added as an after thought, staring out the window once more, wondering where Edward was out there. With Jasper, telling him it wasn't his fault? Or brooding alone? "He's more hateful toward himself than he should be."

Carlisle smiled, a weak, barely noticeable smile that disappeared quickly.

"That's the one thing I can never be sure of," Carlisle told me sadly. "I think I've done the best I could with what I have. But I look at my... _son_. His strength, his goodness... and his unhappiness. I wonder if I was right to condemn him to this life, when he certainly would have gone on to heaven if I had let him pass on when his time came. Was it right to doom any of them to this existence? I can't decide."

I thought of that, picturing my life if Carlisle had resisted the temptation to change his lonely existence. My mouth went dry at the thought. Edward had become a better friend to me than I could ever have anticipated, and the thought of coming to dreary Forks and not finding him here was frightening. How would things be different?... How would _I _be different if I didn't have Edward to lean on? I swallowed.

"I'm glad you didn't," I said at length.

"It was his mother who made up my mind," Carlisle whispered, as if I hadn't spoken. "Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. His father, Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Edward looks a great deal like her–she had that same strange bronze shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same color green."

I tried to picture Edward with green eyes, but found that I couldn't.

"Elizabeth worried obsessively over her son. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed. I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. When the

end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and I'd arrived to relieve the doctors who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend–there was so much work to be done, and I had no need of rest. How I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying."

"I went to check Elizabeth and her son first. I'd grown attached–always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. I could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore.

"She didn't look weak, though, when she glared up at me from her cot.

"'Save him!' she commanded me in the hoarse voice that was all her throat could manage.

"'I'll do everything in my power,' I promised her, taking her hand. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin. 'You must,' she insisted, clutching at my hand with enough strength that I wondered if she wouldn't pull through the crisis after all. Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. 'You must do everything in _your _power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.'

"It frightened me. She looked it me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain that she knew my secret. Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand.

"I'd spent decades considering the idea of creating a companion for myself. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. But I could never justify it to myself–doing what had been done to me.

"There Edward lay, dying. It was clear that he had only hours left. Beside him, his mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death."

I wondered what it must be like for Carlisle to relive all this for me, his memory as clear now as it had been then. I thought of the atmosphere of death that must have pervaded the hospitals back then, and shuddered, knowing that much of Carlisle's work would have been like that. I forced such thoughts from my head and concentrated once more on Carlisle's story.

"Elizabeth's words echoed in my head. How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her son?

"I looked at Edward. Sick as he was, he was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about his face. The kind of face I would have wanted my son to have.

"After all those years of indecision, I simply acted on a whim. I wheeled his mother to the morgue first, and then I came back for him. No one noticed that he was still breathing. There weren't enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty–of the living, at least. I stole him out the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home.

"I wasn't sure what had to be done. I settled for recreating the wounds I'd received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that later. It was more painful and lingering than necessary.

"I wasn't sorry, though. I've never been sorry that I saved Edward." He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. "I should take you home now."

"I'll do that."

It was Edward. He came in through the shadowy dining room slowly, his face blank as I had seen it so many times, when he was trying to hide something. Yet this time _was_ different... Something in the dark way his eyes flickered away from my face when I met his gaze, before he seemed to need to force them back.

I looked down. My shirt was covered in blood- and frosting, though I suspected the latter wouldn't bother Edward too much.

"Carlisle can do it," I said.

"I'm fine." Edward's voice was emotionless. "You should change anyway. I'll grab you a shirt. You'll give Charlie a heart attack looking like that." He turned to leave and I felt a sudden spasm of unease.

"No," I insisted, maybe too quickly, too forcefully. He regarded me with detached curiosity. "Charlie won't care. I'll just tell him I fell into a pile of plates. C'mon, if you're driving me, let's just... go." I turned to Carlisle. "Thanks for the stitches, doc," I said, forcing a grin onto my face, though I felt far from happy.

He smiled, at least, and nodded at me as I was leaving. I followed Edward out into the living room, where Esme was mopping the floor- with bleach, by the smell of it.

"Esme-" I began, feeling horrible.

"All done," she said before I could apologize. "How does your arm feel?"

"It's fine," I told her as Alice came in the back door. "Jasper?" I asked her, knowing she understood what I meant.

"He's very upset with himself. It's so much more of a challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak.," she told me with a deep sigh.

I grimaced. "It's not his fault. Tell him I don't care much?"

Alice nodded, her face impassive. "I will."

I tried to keep the grimace from my face and headed to the front door where Edward was standing. I wished, for a moment, that he wasn't there, so I could ask Alice how _he_ was doing, and not Jasper. I didn't know that she'd answer me, though. It was times like this, no doubt, that made Alice regret my presence, my involvement with her family.

"Wait!"

I turned curiously, wondering what it was Alice wanted, aside from my immediate departure.

"Your things," she reminded me, pressing my gifts gently into my good arm. I bowed my head, unable to meet her blank stare.

"Thank me later," she said, and when I looked up I was surprised to see a tiny smile about her lips.

Outside, Edward kept pace with me silently, his hunched shoulders reminding me of an animal stalking through the forest. He opened the passenger door of my truck for me, and I climbed in, knowing I couldn't drive with my unfeeling arm. Emmett had put a giant red ribbon on my new stereo, and I pulled it off with disgust, kicking it under the seat.

The silence was thick, oppressing, and only made deeper by the sound of my truck's engine coming to life. Edward drove quickly, his gaze as totally indecipherable as the complete blackness out my window. We had been here before, the night Edward found out about my past. But we had gotten over that, we could get over this, too.

"Edward-" I started, not knowing what to say.

A tiny voice in my head reminded me that we weren't over it, not yet, that Edward still shut down around me sometimes, that he kept me out...

"Yes?"

"I-" I stared at my hands. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, sounding vaguely angry.

"For spilling blood all over you damned floor, for being an idiot and cutting myself!" I retorted before I could bring my temper to heel.

"It was a damned paper cut," Edward snapped. "What have _you_ got to be sorry for? If you'd gotten a paper cut somewhere else- at Newton's or Jessica's... what would be the worst thing that could happen? They didn't find a band aid?"

"Stop being melodramatic," I told him coldly, looking away to glare out the window.

"I'm_ not_," he seethed through clenched teeth. "None of this would ever have happened if I didn't-"

"I don't care," I told him, aware how petulant I was being. I rubbed my forehead and expelled a great gust of breath. Arguing like this would get me nowhere with Edward. It hadn't before. "It's no one's fault," I said quietly. "Let's not fight about this, let's just- move on."

"Fine," Edward said, so quietly I barely heard him. I knew for certain that he would not be moving on without further cajoling. But I would think on what to say before I tried broaching this subject again.

At my house, Edward helped me out, taking my things. "I'll put these in your room," he told me impassively. "Good night."

He turned away from me again, and once more I felt a horrible sense of foreboding.

"_Edward_."

When he looked at me, I knew that I would give just about anything to see some sort of life in his eyes again. Without thinking about it, I reached up and touched his face, and found happily that something did flicker there, though it looked more like turmoil and desperation than anything else.

"Really, this doesn't need to be a big deal. I know the risks of spending time with your family. I _choose_ this, so I can... be with you," I finished, aware that that wasn't quite accurate, that it implied something between Edward and I that wasn't there. But I hoped that Edward understood what I was trying to tell him, that I would go back and risk this injury and every injury again if it meant keeping him as my friend.

"Good night, Char," Edward said again, disappearing before I could protest, my fingers itching where the night air brushed my skin and his face had been.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is huge! I wanted to split it in half, but I told someone when I was writing Anticipation that a certain event happened chapter 3, then realized it was chapter 4, and it seemed to mean to push it back to chapter 5... HERE IT IS!

**Chapter 4**

The next morning I awoke earlier than usual and made a beeline for the kitchen. When Charlie found me, I was rummaging through the cupboards desperately trying to determine what type of pills you took for a cut such as the one on my arm- Tylenol? Advil? I knew they all did something different, but I didn't know what kind to use for the throbbing pain focused about my elbow.

Back in Phoenix, I usually just took cocaine.

Charlie snorted at me, handing me a Tylenol bottle. He had laughed at my appearance the night before after the initial concern was gone.

"I tripped into their glass coffee table and managed to knock over a pile of plates," I'd told him glumly, "The Cullens were quite in awe of my gracefulness, I felt."

I still remembered the slack-jawed look on his face as he took in the blood, the frosting, my sober expression that was more from Edward's behaviour than anything else. Then he'd laughed.

"Be careful of that arm," Charlie told me in a tone that suggested he was enjoying himself far too much as I was heading out the door. "You'll have permanent injuries soon enough if you don't give it time to heal before your next catastrophe."

I didn't dignify that comment with a response, and tried to tell myself it was because my pride would take no wounds, and not because I was too wound up this morning to think of something witty.

I didn't see Edward when I pulled into the parking lot, though his Volvo was there. Usually I would find him waiting for me, leaning against the hood of his car talking to Alice when I arrived- unless I was late, and then I'd find him in our usual seats in the back of first period. But I was on time today, for once, and didn't see him anywhere.

_Still_, I thought, that meant nothing. I scowled as I entered the school, thoughtlessly rubbing the tip of my nose. So what if Edward had gone ahead to class? I was making mountains out of molehills, no doubt- my obsessive pandering made me think of the way 12 year old girls probably carried on about their latest crush. Or the way Ben might do the same thing.

That thought entertained me, so I was grinning slightly when I entered our room. I tried not to let the blank stare Edward directed at me alter that.

"How's your arm?" he asked in a tone that I could only think of as careful.

"'S fine," I told him, glad that the Tylenol had set in so it wasn't a complete lie- it did hurt, but not nearly as much as it'd been hurting ten minutes earlier. "Alright?" I asked him.

He shrugged in response. "_My _arm didn't get cut open."

I stared at him for a few long, silent moments, somewhat put off by the childish tone that had come out in.

"Very mature and astute response," I said eventually, aware that my voice sounded dry as old bones.

Edward only shrugged again and looked to the front of the class. The day laboured past me in silence. Edward responded when I spoke to him, and sometimes enquired after my arm, but otherwise our lack of conversation was enough to drive me half the way to insanity. I didn't make my situation any better by alienating everyone else by making generally mean remarks in response to just about anything that was said to me.

By lunchtime, I was desperate to see Alice. She and I had a more formal relationship than I had with Rosalie, or even Emmett now that he'd warmed up to me, but I felt like there were a hundred things I wanted to ask her- where was Jasper? Was he okay? And, if I could get her away from Edward for a moment, what was going on? Was there a basis for my paranoia, or did she think he just needed time? Most importantly, I wanted to ask what she saw in her visions- but that was a question she had never answered for me, not since what happened in Phoenix, and I suspected she never would again.

Usually Alice beat Edward and I to the lunch table. She didn't have a human to keep pace with, after all, but she wasn't there.

"Where's Alice?" I asked Edward, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach.

"With Jasper."

"Oh. Right. And... where is he?"

"Nowhere in particular."

"What?"

"He left. He's very upset. Alice was trying to convince him to go to Denali."

"Oh," I said again listlessly. Denali, the place where the Cullens' "extended family" lived, others like them who abstained from human blood. Edward had mentioned them to me before, had gone there himself when I first showed up in Forks. It made sense for Jasper and Alice to go there, but it unnerved me. Alice was the Cullen I saw most, outside of Edward. If I was at their house I could almost always count on Rosalie to hang around, but I never saw her otherwise- she was supposed to be away at college, after all.

I didn't think I'd be going anywhere near their big white house anytime soon. In fact, I suspected the best thing for Edward right now was for me to stay away from there. I suspected his reaction was so strong- unlike after the incident with James- because it was his family member he'd ended up coming to blows with in order to protect the feeble human, not an enemy. The last thing I should be doing was hanging around and pushing them all even further.

But if I couldn't talk to anyone in Edward's family, I would never know what he was thinking- he certainly wouldn't tell me. Then again, maybe he wouldn't tell them, either.

Edward remained silent for the rest of lunch period, and by the end of the day I'd given up speaking to him. I kicked a pebble as I headed across the parking lot to my truck, unsure of whether Edward was following or if he'd simply gone to his Volvo to go home. I found that I didn't really care. I was almost hoping that he _wasn't._ Having Edward treat me with such stoney indifference was wreaking havoc on my mind, and I berated myself for being so pathetic. But I didn't think I could handle one more blank look from him, or one more solicitous question about my arm.

"Hey, Char!"

Mike's voice. I sighed and yanked open the door of my truck, shoving my books inside before I faced Mike.

"Yeah?"

"Party this weekend down at La Push, you coming?"

"Probably not," I told him, which is what I always told him. Edward wasn't very into the partying scene- understandably- and I knew that it was something I should be avoiding at all costs, even though, in a place like this, there was probably little going on other than a bit of underage drinking.

"Come on, you _never _get out of your house, I swear. Now that your arm isn't broken anymore, you should lighten up a little. It's the first big party of the school year, it'll be great." Mike stared at my face, probably as impassive as Edward's had been all day, and sighed. Maybe he associated my indifference with Edward's, too, like I did, because he added, "Man, what is _up_ with Cullen today?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, he's just in a generally pissy mood, I think."

Mike scoffed. "That is one deadly bad mood, if you ask me. The guy acted like a robot all day. Anyway, gotta go."

Mike waved and I tried to smile in return. He was a good friend to have, even if I hadn't formed any bonds with him like I had with my friends back home, or with Edward.

I looked across the parking lot to see that Edward's silver car was already gone. The drive home was horrible. I turned my new radio up as loud as I could just to stop my own thoughts from being able to form. I couldn't shake my tenuous fears that something was much wronger than it seemed on the surface. Edward could get upset over little things,and when he did, he always wallowed until someone shook him out of it. But this was different, I felt, deeper and more dangerous than his other dark moods.

At home, I threw myself down on my bed and stared at the pattern of rain on the window before I remembered something from the night before.

Two gifts still sat unopened on the bedside table. I picked up the long , small box from Carlisle and Esme first, almost not wanting to know anymore what Edward had gotten me. Inside were two tiny pieces of paper with a lot of overwhelming fine print, two plane tickets for Jacksonville. One for me, apparently, and one for Edward. That would be nice, if he'd ever cheer up.

Then again, maybe going away somewhere would be just the thing to cheer him up. My mother and her husband weren't exactly a laugh and a half, but at least it'd be a change of scenery, and we'd be away from _his _family, which meant no more accidents with Jasper, or anyone else. He'd have to stay inside all day... still, I put the tickets on my bedside table, thinking it might not be a bad idea to broach the subject.

I pulled Edward and Alice's gift to me slowly. I placed it on my pillow, just in front of my face, and glared at it. I was lying on my stomach, restlessly swinging my legs in the air as I stared down the tiny silver-wrapped parcel. I couldn't explain why I was afraid to open it. I wanted to know what Edward had gotten me, of course, but for some reason I just didn't want to open any gifts from him after the day I'd had.

I sighed, and finished pulling off the paper I had begun unwrapping the night before. Inside was a jewel case with a blank cd and a note, in Alice's handwriting, that said, "All my genius idea, Edward supplied some elbow grease..."

Below that, in Edward's perfect script it said, "She did nothing."

I chuckled despite myself. Alice didn't get on with me as well as some of her other siblings did, but I couldn't argue that she was Edward's favourite in their family. They were more than brother and sister, best friends in many ways, and it was obvious in their interactions- even the written ones.

I put the cd in my player, wondering what it was. Suddenly the sound of extremely discordant piano music filled the room, and I shivered despite myself. Edward obstinately refused to play for me, not that I'd really asked. I wouldn't have cared much, except that the one time I did offhandedly note that I'd never heard him play, he reacted with such alarm that it made me even more curious than before. I wondered then if it was because he was utterly horrible. But within moments it became apparent that it was just the song, something dark that picked up speed. I wrinkled my eyebrows, thinking that it sounded very familiar.

A few moments later, I realized that it was a piano arrangement of one of the two songs I had told Edward about when he'd asked my favourite song of all time. It seemed like such a long time ago now, that Edward and I had first met and hesitantly gotten to know each other.

I rested my head on my forearms and let my eyes drift shut, the music lulling me into relaxation. The next song was my other favourite, also meticulously rearranged in such a way that brought out all my favourite parts of the song. The entire cd was like that- some rock, some jazz songs, some raucous sounding music that I recognized as being heavily African-influenced... but all of it was the music I love expressed in a way that fit Edward.

I suspected the note was true, that Alice had come up with the idea but Edward had done, well, everything.

Despite how much I enjoyed music, and especially this music, the gift was only making me reflect on my failing friendship. I wondered if Edward would ever feel comfortable enough to play when I was around- like I said, I wasn't planning to ask for a concert or anything, but it struck me that music was his biggest passion, and he didn't seem ready to really share it with me, except through talking, and now this.

The thought made me smile despite my melancholy. Maybe this was a sign that Edward thought almost as much of our friendship as I did. Sometimes he implied that he did, but it was hard to know for sure when our communication was so stilted at times. We had certainly proven that any conversation between us regarding anything but the rather shallow would be awkward. With that in mind, it seemed that this might have been Edward's way of extending... something. I didn't think I understood the sentiment entirely, but I decided that the gift that probably hadn't cost more than two dollars and a few hours of Edward's time was by far the best thing I'd gotten.

Maybe. Charlie had gotten me a gun, after all.

The last song on the cd confused me- no matter how many times I played it back, I didn't think I'd ever heard it before. Still, something in it struck me, and I fell asleep with the cd on, though my sleep was restless. I must have slept for a long time- when I woke it was the black of night, and the patter of the rain was almost as loud as the music I'd left on.

I lie in my bed for hours as the sun rose, waiting until a reasonable time to get out of bed. The next day passed the same. Edward was silent, and I didn't try to talk to him. I didn't want to be the one to break the awkwardness, hoping he would come around, and tired of the results of my attempts at communication. Every short answer from him made my blood boil, and my irritability quickly grew to the point that I knew I'd start a fight if I kept trying to talk to him with no luck. I knew what arguing with him would do; it would make me lose my temper, and I would dig this hole between us much, much deeper than it needed to be. By the end of the school day, Edward had asked after my arm twice but otherwise been as still as a rock. As I was leaving the school at his side, he turned to go to his car as he had done the day before- but this time I noticed, and reached out to grab his shoulder before I quite knew why.

"Yes?" he asked emotionlessly, staring at my hand.

I didn't know what had been going through my mind when I grabbed him. "Thank you for the gift."

I didn't expect him to respond, and I didn't want to have some sappy conversation about how much it meant to me that he had, sort of, agreed to play piano for me. I expected that a number of people in the parking lot would get the wrong idea from seeing us have that discussion, so I walked away without saying anything else. I'd give Edward the time he needed to get over this alone, since it was clear that spending time with me did nothing to help at all.

My house's emptiness did nothing to improve my mood, so I threw myself into my homework with more concentration than I had in probably all of my life, even went so far as to start early on our month's end assignment in English and study all the material we had so far in my other classes. Not much, considering we'd been in school for only three weeks, but it was enough to distract me for a few hours- and when the clock started dragging by, I made a dinner that was more than kraft dinner and then read ahead in my texts so I'd be caught up for another week without study.

Finally the hour was reasonable enough that I could go to bed and wait for sleep: it didn't come, so I put the cd Edward had made for me on again and finally drifted into a fitful slumber.

I was still completely unrested in the morning, and by the looks of things when I got to school, I had another long day of unease ahead of me. At least the day was no longer silent- the unnamed song on the cd was stuck in my head, so in a way Edward wasn't quiet to me at all, since I heard his playing all day. I would rather have had his words, but I wasn't about to push my luck, or his limits, any farther. I tried to make the best of it by talking with Mike or Tyler when they were in my classes, but I was hyper-aware of Edward, still as night air beside me.

He surprised me at the end of the day by breaking the silence on his own.

"Do you mind if I come over?" he asked.

"Of course not," I told him. "I never mind having you."

"Now?" I caught a hint of desperation in his voice that made me nervous- I almost wanted to retract my statement, to tell him that maybe I did mind.

"Sure." I tried to keep the discomfort from showing through in my tone.

Edward nodded and turned to lope swiftly and gracefully to his car.

He was already there when I got home, parked in Charlie's usual spot. He didn't plan on staying long, it seemed. He got out of his car when I pulled up and met me at the door of my truck, taking my bag from my hand.

"Huh?" I asked unintelligently when he grabbed it.

He tossed the bag back into the cab and shut the door.

"Come for a walk," he suggested, jerking his head in the direction of the forest.

"Okay..." I said slowly, wondering what this was about. It seemed like he'd finally decided to talk, but I wasn't sure this was the development I'd been hoping for- his face was still too set, too distanced, for this to be any good. A few feet into the trail, Edward stopped, leaning against a tree there. I could still see the house through the trees.

Well, that was a merry little jaunt.

"So?"

Edward stared at me, unresponsive for a long time. The look he gave me was appraising, I thought, but it was hard to tell because he was still so unyielding with his emotions.

"Char, we're leaving," he finally said.

It suddenly felt much colder outside than it had before.

"Uh, what?"

"We're leaving. It's time for us to move on. We've stayed in Forks long enough."

"But... why now? Why not wait one more year? Then you and Alice would be done- It would make more _sense_," I said, my words coming out slower than I intended. My suggestion was tenuous at best. Of course the Cullens couldn't stay too long... Edward would know better than I when it was time for his family to go. But another year here would be more convenient.

And until now I had for some reason never considered the possibility of Edward's family leaving. Not in a year, not ever.

"Carlisle can barely pass for thirty; he's already pushing thirty-three," Edward explained, his mouth set in a firm, unforgiving line when he finished.

"But..."

I had nothing else to offer. Did I think Edward would stay because I asked him to? We were friends, good friends, I thought, but what was that to Edward when his family needed to go on? Still, the irrational, desperate part of me that I always tried to shut out didn't want to hear any of this from Edward.

"Char, what happened the other night-"

"Was nothing," I cut in. "A small injury. _Nothing_."

"Exactly," Edward agreed easily, too easily. "It was nothing. It was to be expected. Jasper can't change what he is... Neither can I. Neither can you. I'm tired of pretending. This has been fun.. but I always have to fight with myself, hold back against my instincts. I can't really be myself with you, can I?"

"Yes," I argued without fervor, but then I wondered if he really meant it the way it sounded. Did he mean he had to fight against his vampirism when I was around, or did he mean that he couldn't be... Edward?

I kicked at the ground, reaching up to rub my nose, mostly so that Edward wouldn't see my frown. I thought of the rosary he'd thrown in the garbage, the things he'd told me about his past, about hunting rapists, murderers, _drug dealers_. And how he'd never wanted to speak about it once he'd found out _my_ past, not much anyway. He didn't like the idea of me having a gun, for some reason he refused to explain, he always hesitated before he spoke...

He didn't trust me.

Edward had tried, I realized, to make this friendship work, but we were two very different people. Well, I'd known that. Edward struggled with his sins, with his desire for redemption, and I...

I bowed my head, refusing to acknowledge the hot, oppressing feeling in my chest.

"I suppose you're right," I agreed, in a voice that was much steadier than I expected.

"Of course, I'll always... miss you. In a way," Edward said. "But my kind get distracted easily." Edward grinned, his razor sharp teeth glinting in the dim sunlight that poked through foliage and clouds.

"And me?" I asked, regretting it even as I did so. Did I expect Edward to care what his leaving would mean to me? I wasn't sure I could expect him to _understand_, even... I had never told him how much I valued his friendship, how much I valued the fact that he accepted... But maybe, in light of everything he'd said, that was a moot point.

"You're human," he told me. "Your mind is like a sieve. You'll forget, soon enough."

I nodded, looking down at my feet, unable to meet his eyes. I wondered if I would get to say goodbye to any of the others before they left.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "It will be as if I never existed."

Something in his tone gave me the answer to my question.

"The others are gone already, aren't they?"

"Yes... Rosalie wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced her a clean break would be best... Well, Carlisle convinced her... It _is_ for the best, Char."

I shrugged, studying the moss at my feet. "Sure. If that's what you say." I was glad to hear that my tone sounded like it usually did, dry with humour, and not the way I would expect it to sound- broken, and unsure.

Edward sighed, and when I looked up I saw a hint of regret in his face.

"There is... something else," he said, his voice soft enough that I had to strain to hear him.

"Okay," I agreed without thinking.

"I've wondered for such a long time..." Edward said, stepping forward, "...And, as I said, you'll forget."

I didn't think I would, but I'd only look like a fool if I told him so.

Edward's fingers encircled one of my wrists, tugging me toward him.

"This is probably quite selfish of me," he said quietly, voice intense as he stared at me. His eyes were suddenly full of life, an unnerving contrast given his demeanor the last few days. "But it's just one thing before I leave."

He grabbed my other wrist, locking me in place.

"...Edward?"

Edward paused, lips pursed as we stood toe to toe. I was sure my expression was confused, as I had no idea what it was he wanted.

Finally Edward seemed to make up his mind, and he leaned forward with surprising swiftness, pressing our lips together. I stiffened instantly, half of me wanting to yank myself from his grasp, telling me to retreat before I got hurt- and the other half reminding me that this was Edward, the person who'd protected me and been there for me. Edward didn't want me to be anything if not _safe_...

Torn between my two selves, I stood still as Edward dropped one of my wrists, brushed my face once with his hand, and stepped back.

"Ah," he said, his eyes regarding me but not seeming to see, distant even though he was within only inches of my face. "I thought so," he added, voice quiet, and without another word, Edward turned and disappeared into the trees.

I stood unmoving for a long time, my arms feeling like a lead weight. It seemed to take all the strength I had to reach up and brush my lips where Edward had kissed me.

* * *

><p>Yep. Sorry folks.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

I am REALLY nervous about this chapter (and the next few to be honest). I was going to wait to update it on Friday but just having it sitting on my harddrive the last few days has been driving me MAD so I just want to get it out there and have it read ASAP!

**Chapter 5**

I couldn't say later how long I stood in the dark forest while the sun slowly worked its way across the sky. I'm sure that I was quite the sight, standing there looking aghast and confused.

I tried to reason through Edward's motivation for kissing me- the obvious, that he must have been _interested_ in me beyond friendship, didn't seem at all likely. But why else? No matter how hard I tried to think like someone else, like a vampire, like _Edward_, all I could think was that he had taken temporary leave of his senses- and me, too, apparently.

I trudged inside before Charlie got home, remembering that moment again and again and cursing myself for a fool. Edward had kissed me, and I should have-

What? The more I thought about it the more I was certain I didn't know what the proper way to respond would have been.

Pull away? Demand to know what the hell he was doing? I hadn't given him permission to touch me, hated it when people took that sort of liberty, in fact... But I didn't feel angry with Edward for what he did, only confused. I knew he hadn't done it out of malice.

...But then, he knew how much I hated having people touch me, _especially_ anything beyond the most casual of touches. He knew it frightened me... He also would have been able to smell the adrenaline flooding my veins if I _had_ been frightened. He would have stopped.

I sat heavily on the edge of my bed, brow puckered in confusion, and fell backwards with a thump. I stared at my ceiling.

"It _felt_ like a genuine kiss," I told the white paint above my head in a whisper.

With that in mind, it was even more difficult to think how I should have reacted to it. They say hindsight is 20/20, but I felt as blind about the situation as I would have _before_ Edward did it.

Should I have said something? Should I have at least gently pushed him away to show that I was uncomfortable with it?

I thought of the kiss again. _Had _I been uncomfortable with it? I only remembered being frozen with confusion. I hadn't even had the time to process what was _happening_, let alone what I thought of it. I didn't think I could know how I felt about the kiss without the kiss itself being longer.

"Char?"

I sat up. Charlie was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a worried expression on his face.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"You hungry? It's eight, I haven't seen you all day."

I looked out my window, surprised at how dark it had gotten.

"Oh, shit, yeah, I hadn't realized how late it was."

Charlie shrugged. "I got pizza, figured you might want a break from the type of food we're capable of preparing."

I forced a grin despite my inner turmoil.

"You mean the type of food _you_ are capable of preparing, I'm practically a gourmet chef."

Charlie shrugged and turned to go downstairs. I heard him muttering something gourmet chefs and MacDonald's, and my smile became a little more genuine as I followed him.

"So," Charlie said while we were eating. "What have you even been up to the last few days? I've barely seen you... Edward hasn't been around much."

I studied Charlie's face, wondering if there was anything behind that comment. Had Charlie seen something between Edward and I that I hadn't? Charlie ate his pizza and let his eyes wander no less than a foot away from his plate. Typical. I surmised that, no, Edward's behaviour would have shocked anyone else as much as it shocked me.

"Uh, the Cullens are moving, Dad. He's probably been busy getting ready."

"Are they? I hadn't realized."

"Uh, yeah, I don't think they really wanted to tell anyone."

"Huh, that's too bad," Charlie said, and I saw that he seemed to be studying me a little more keenly.

"Yeah, it sucks," I agreed, trying not to let my voice betray just how much it bothered me.

"Well, maybe they'll keep in touch," Charlie suggested before returning his full attention to the food in front of him.

I knew they wouldn't. The thought made the uneasy feeling in my stomach harden. Why would Edward have kissed me before he left? It definitely didn't seem like the right time to try and show someone you cared for them that way- _if _that was what Edward had been doing. And more, why should I even have cared what Edward meant with that kiss? It would never matter now.

Try as I might to convince myself that it wasn't something I should worry about, I couldn't shake it from my mind. I didn't even try to sleep that night, only stared out my window while the rain beat a staccato rhythm against the roof.

Edward wasn't in school that morning, which meant they had already gone, and the gossip seemed to be that Carlisle had been offered a substantial amount of money to transfer to Los Angeles.

L.A., not likely. I pictured the Cullens on a sunny beach, sparkling in the sun and basking in the stares of passerby.

I tried not to care. I tried desperately. Every time I thought I'd succeeded I remembered how cold Edward's lips had felt against mine, remembered the way he'd caressed my cheek as I accepted his touch unresponsively.

"So," Mike tried again at the end of the day. "Party tomorrow night? It'd take your mind off Cullen going."

"What?" I asked, perhaps a bit too sharply

Mike seemed genuinely confused at my irritable response. "I mean I know you guys were good friends and all, sucks that he's moving..."

Mike didn't care that Edward was leaving. He might even have been a little glad. Most of the guys at Forks High School had no lost love for Edward- the girls fawned over him and he never showed any signs of being the slightest bit interested. It stung the pride of guys like Mike... but he was making an effort for me, anyway, knowing that Edward and I were friends.

I sighed. "Thanks, Mike, but no. I... just don't party."

Mike shrugged. "Whatever you say. You change your mind, let me know."

Right. That wouldn't be happening. Especially not if Charlie had anything to say about it.

Still, I would be with _Mike_, right... that guy was nothing if not a typical small town white boy who'd never touch something harder than alcohol. I told myself it was a bad idea, anyway, and made myself focus far too much on homework once again.

Charlie and I watched baseball in companionable silence, something I anticipated happening more and more now that Edward was gone. Eventually, desperate for something that I could really concentrate on, I went in the backyard with Charlie's gift and made an attempt at target practice. I spread my legs slightly apart and lifted the gun, training my eyes down the sight.

I felt the ghostly, cold press of a hand beneath my elbow, and another on my shoulder.

But no one was there, of course; I was merely remembering how Edward had gently maneuvered me into another position before I shot. I switched to the stance he had suggested and began shooting. By the end of a half hour, I had managed to hit my tiny targets twice.

I knew that it took time to get better, but it seemed that my progress might have been even worse than the norm. Of course, I spent as much time thinking about Edward as I did about hitting my target.

When I went back inside, I asked, "Is it strictly legal for me to be shooting a gun in our backyard?"

"No" Charlie told me without looking away from the television, "but we have no close neighbours, so I know you won't accidentally shoot someone... Strictly speaking, in Washington it's not legal for someone convicted or accused and not yet found innocent of a serious offense to be in possession of a gun."

I rubbed my nose. "I've never been accused of a _serious_ offense."

Charlie sighed. "I know that, Char. I'm just saying, be careful with the damn thing, because people with a record _never _get regarded fairly when something goes wrong."

I wanted to be angry that he was treating me like I would do something stupid with the gun, but I knew that he was saying it out of concern for my well-being, nothing else. He'd given me the gun, that was sign enough that he trusted me. Maybe I should have trusted in him more.

"Sure thing, Dad," I said as I went upstairs. "I'll be careful."

I wasn't at all in the mood for another sleepless night, and my mood was much darker than I wanted it to be. I knew a lot of people that had _happy songs, _something they listened to when they were upset. Mine was a bit too upbeat to listen to when trying to fall asleep, but Edward had done a version of it on his cd. I turned on he stereo, but nothing happened.

I blinked, hoping it wasn't broken, and opened it. The cd was gone. I didn't remember taking it out. I turned around and surveyed my room. The small envelope was gone from the bedside table.

"_It will be as if I never existed,"_ he'd said... But he didn't take the radio in my truck, I thought confusedly. Did he expect me to get pissed off and rip it out myself?

I went over to my dresser, where there was a pile of photos I'd taken that summer. There were some of me and the other human students at Forks, a photo of Charlie looking incredibly grumpy, a picture of me Mike had candidly snapped when we were working together at his parents' store- a painful summer job if there ever was one- and a few I had taken of the scenery around town, with total intent of sending them to Glen... I flipped through the photos, my lips curling down. All the photos of Edward and I, _and_ the ones Rosalie had insisted she and I took together were gone.

It didn't matter much that Edward's family had given me those gifts, or that he the pictures were of them. They were my things Edward had gone through, not his, _mine, _my own.

Edward could be such a little bitch sometimes, I thought bitterly.

I glanced at the clock, eight PM. Not too late to give a friend a call, then.

I dialed impatiently, and didn't care if my voice sounded dead or casual to the person on the other end.

"Mike? Pick me up before you leave tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Char?"

I kept walking, twigs crunching beneath my feet as I ventured farther into the forest. I sensed something dark amongst the trees, something I knew I didn't want to catch me.

"Hey, wait," Edward said, and he grabbed my wrist. "Just one thing..."

I knew what was coming. I stood absolutely still while I waited for it, and when Edward's lips touched mine I didn't move. His lips were still on mine when I was yanked abruptly from my dream.

I awoke with my heart thudding in my chest, the way it did when I was roused from a nightmare.

The party tonight couldn't come soon enough.

It's not like I was planning to do anything _stupid. _I just wanted to do something completely different, something I would never have done with Edward, and going with Mike and Tyler to this party seemed like the best idea.

They made obnoxious jokes and I pretended that I never made mistakes, because reacting to Edward's kiss would have been some form of acknowledgment he didn't deserve. And as the night dragged on, I forgot to think about him.

Drunk and half-blind, I stumbled into a side table at one point and knocked over a lamp.

"Char?"

I looked up and peered curiously at the person in front of me. I recognized him after a fashion, and the whiskey fogging my brain made my joy at seeing a person I barely knew increase tenfold.

"Jacob fucking Black,_what's up_?"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "I'd ask what's up with you, but I guess we know."

"You sound far too sober for your own good, bud."

Jacob scoffed. "This definitely isn't the scene for me," he told me. Probably he figured I wouldn't remember the next morning. "But my friend Embry wanted to check it out."

Another young native boy, somewhat short and burly, approached and handed Jake a water bottle.

"Embry's alright," he said. "Just playing some poker."

Jake nodded, and I thought I recognized this type of interaction- it was the same way Glen and Ben would talk about Matt and I when they thought we were too out of it to understand, even though we were standing right there. The sober caretakers.

Jake inclined his head in my direction.

"Char, this is Quil... Quil, this is Char."

I shifted slightly to shake Quil's hand and found myself struggling for balance.

Quil looked a bit incredulous; Jake must have mentioned me before. _"This_ is Chief Swan Jr?"

"Hey!" I argued. "Charlie probably knew how to have a good time... once... years ago. I mean, he must have, I'm here, aren't I?"

Jake buried his face in one palm and Quil laughed.

"Chief Swan Jr," Quil said, "You are white girl wasted."

The night was dark after that.

I woke up in my own bed, amazingly, and my head felt fine. My stomach was queasy, but all in all I hadn't fucked up too badly, and Edward had been completely absent from my mind for hours. Still, I didn't like the idea of having so much blank space in my memory.

I vowed that I wouldn't let myself get that drunk again in the future. Nothing had happened, but I knew too well how easily it _could_.

My dream was the same every night that week. Edward followed me into the woods, reached out to grab me, and I stood unmoving beneath his cold lips. Some things were different- he would touch my face, or wrap his arm around my waist, but I never moved, and I always woke up with my pulse wild beneath my skin.

For a week the dreams confused me, but toward the end of that week I thought I noticed something I hadn't before.

"Char?"

I still sensed something sinister was in the woods, hiding somewhere in the darkness, waiting for me.

"Hey, wait," Edward said, and he grabbed my wrist. "Just one thing..."

I looked into his eyes, golden and wild like an animal's. He studied me, and leaned down quickly to bring our lips together. For the first time I was struck with the realization that the thing I sensed in the forest wasn't Edward. I didn't react as he kissed me, my mind elsewhere, and when I woke up that day I was still left with the distinct feeling I'd just been awakened from a nightmare.

My vow about partying lightly was abandoned quickly, as quickly as it took me to stir from my dreams each night. Mike and Tyler easily pulled me into the fold of regular party goers. On occasion, they said, Ben came, but "that's rare, and he just sits sober in a corner laughing at the drunks anyway."

"He probably has the most fun," I suggested once a couple of weeks after I first started spending my weekends with the two of them. "He gets to remember all of it."

"Maybe," Mike agreed with a chuckle. "But I'll take my fun over his."

Messily he poured three shots, and we clinked our glasses together before throwing them back.

The parties we went to seemed to be at La Push more often than not.

"Your dad doesn't reign with an iron fist here," Tyler explained when I asked why.

"Oh right. Daddy dearest." I sighed and scuffed the ground with my foot. Charlie was surprisingly relaxed about me going out all the time on weekends. I think he was just glad to see that I was reacting well to Edward leaving. It had been obvious, I supposed, that he was the best friend I had in Forks, and no doubt Charlie was grateful that the closest friend I had was a straight A, behaved, well-mannered son of Dr. Cullen.

Thinking of Edward made the alcohol in my stomach roil. I felt my lips twisting into a scowl, as if by switching shapes I could forget the faint press of someone else's mouth against them.

"More whiskey?" Tyler held out the bottle, perhaps noticing my distress.

"Yep."

Jake seemed to be at these parties more often than most others who claimed this 'wasn't their scene.' He and Quil were friendly, and after a fashion they grew used to my presence while they waited for Embry each night.

"Baby sitting?" I asked, plopping down next to him and Quil on a sofa.

"Sober?" Quil asked in shock.

"Ha ha," I responded dryly.

"Nah," Jake said. "Embry doesn't need baby sitting, he just needs backup. He doesn't drink, but he likes the atmosphere."

"So why are you here?"

"His mom always says his dad was an alcoholic. He just likes us to be here. I don't know- in case?"

"But he doesn't drink." I wasn't drunk, but maybe I wasn't sober enough to keep up with this logic.

"Right," Quil said, "Because he knows we're here watching him."

"Uhh..."

"Well we never claimed Embry was normal, just that he's our friend."

I had to laugh at the tone Jake said that in. I had discovered in time, running into Jake at these parties, that Mike and Tyler's obnoxiousness, while entertaining, was much harder to laugh at than Jake's banter with Quil. Something about his carefree nature and the way he was so comfortable with Quil reminded me of my friends from Phoenix when we didn't have the worst of our lives to deal with.

"So how's life?" I asked, and I tossed back the glass of whiskey in my hand iwithone swallow.

"That's gross," Quil noted.

"Is it? You get used to it," I said slowly. The taste of alcohol hadn't bothered me in years. Maybe a little bit the first weekend I went out with Tyler and Mike, but that had been after a long break from drinking.

Jake shrugged and answered my question.

"Life is school and... this."

"Ah."

"Embry'll get over it soon enough," Quil noted. "This is weird for him as it is."

Jake nodded. "Pretty pumped for Halloween coming up though. How about you?" He paused, and with a furrowed brow. "You were good friends with one of the Cullens, right?"

Why did everyone have to talk about this? Or things that made me think about it? Maybe I was being unfair, since I seemed to manage to put Edward into everything I did. It might be hard to mention something I _couldn't_ find a way to associate him with.

"Yeah, Edward and I were friends." I shrugged. "I dunno, life's boring. School sucks."

"A lot of the guys down here were really glad when the Cullens left," Jake went on, not seeming to get by my short answer that this was the _last_ thing I wanted to talk about. "Stupid superstitions," he added with a sigh.

Well-placed concern, more like it. But the Cullens wouldn't hurt anyone. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the sofa. I thought of Edward's hands on my wrists, tugging me closer.

The Cullens wouldn't drink any human's blood, I amended.

With my eyes closed, I didn't see the boy that came to stand in front of us.

"Ready to head out?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

I opened my eyes to see a tall, dark-skinned youth with hair down to his chin. He was skinny enough that he looked a little like a weed, growing faster than it can supply itself with nutrients. He smiled shyly and waved at me.

"Hi," he introduced himself awkwardly. "You must be Char. I'm Embry Call."

"_This_ is Embry?" I asked out loud before I could stop myself.

"The very one," Quil said, and stood up to clap Embry on the back.

"For some reason I pictured you..." Bigger. Brawnier. Poker-playing dangerous guy on the edge of becoming an alcoholic. I'd pictured him like Matt, really, but with darker skin and a more normal fashion sense. "Different."

"Why, what have these two been saying about me?" Embry asked with a frown.

"Well, nothing, you just always seemed to be playing poker whenever I asked where you were, and I pictured..."

"Yeah, Embry's no mobster," Jake joked. "But he tries."

Embry scowled and smacked the back of Jake's head.

"Let's go," he muttered. "Nice meeting you."

I nodded in acknowledgment and looked at my watch. Edward had been on my mind far too much tonight. His kiss felt like theft, and I could only concentrate on what I'd lost, even if I wasn't sure yet what that was.

It wasn't too late, and it wasn't raining either. The walk home was probably an hour, but I knew Mike and Tyler wouldn't be leaving for at least twice as long as that.

I walked slowly, and it took me longer to get home than I expected. I was grateful that it didn't rain until the last few minutes of my walk, but even so I was soaked through by the time I got in the front door.

"Hey, kiddo," Charlie greeted. I was glad of my sobering walk in the rain and the very little amount I'd had to drink anyway.

"Hey," I said, and winced at the gloom in my own voice.

"Everything alright?"

"Just tired," I told him, an answer he seemed to have no problem accepting.

I stood under the hot spray of the shower for much longer than I usually did, waiting for the water to work out the knots in my muscles. It didn't, and I went to sleep curled into a tiny ball in one corner of my bed.

"Char?"

I kept walking, twigs crunching beneath my feet as I ventured farther into the forest.

"Hey, wait," Edward said, and he grabbed my wrist. "Just one thing..."

There were things coming for me in the darkness. I knew what at least one of them was. This time, for some reason, it was different when Edward leaned into me. I turned my face up, waiting expectantly, and my hand reached out to grab the fabric of his shirt. He grabbed my hip, icy skin igniting a fire in me. Edward didn't pull back. Neither did I.

I woke up the same way I always did- gasping for breath, my heartbeat loud enough to hear.

* * *

><p><em>White girl wasted<em>: extremely drunk. Because nobody else on earth gets as drunk as white girls.


	7. Chapter 7

I deleted my livejournal as of yesterday, so this is now the only place to read this. Hope everyone figures it out. :\

**Chapter 7**

Soon enough it was Hallowe'en. I could tell by the buzz around school that Hallowe'en was big in Forks. Mike and Tyler wanted to do a theme costume for whichever party- of the many that seemed to be going on- they had decided we should attend. We were sitting in the back of our final class of the day, whispering quietly about the upcoming weekend.

"Guys. No."

I didn't feel the necessity to get dressed up before I indulged in my habitual binge-drinking-to-forget-Edward-and-that-fucking-kiss.

"It'll be fun," Tyler suggested.

"I doubt that."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Whatever. We'll be able to think of a better duo costume anyway, Char can be the odd one out."

I had a feeling that this was Mike's attempt at reverse psychology. If so, it wasn't about to work.

The bell rang.

"Well, talk to you tomorrow," I said shortly, leaving before they could corner me and talk more about costumes. My dreams were beginning to follow me throughout the day. Each time I heard a branch crushed underfoot I half expected to hear Edward's voice. _Wait. Just one thing_.

I was at the short end of my temper, which most people seemed to sense. Charlie would ask me a hundred and one questions when I got home from school each day, trying to determine what was wrong with me. I answered in monosyllables when possible, trying to escape to my room quickly.

I had tried everything to get the dreams to stop. I tried not sleeping one night, hoping that my exhaustion the next day would make me pass out completely without dreams. I went to bed earlier. I went to bed later. I went to bed with my stereo on, the type of music I would never associate with Edward. I took enough Advil to knock me out, but still I dreamed, and the dreams grew more vivid every night.

Wednesday night, when Edward pulled me close, I felt my heart pick up in anticipation, and I rubbed my fingers reverently against his collarbone.

Thursday he slipped his hand up the back of my shirt, and I heard myself make a contented noise in the back of my throat. Both my hands grabbed Edward's shirt, pulling him in closer.

The hot, pressing feeling in my chest when I regained consciousness from that dream was not the kind I wanted to be connected with Edward.

Or men in general.

I wondered if I was having these weird thoughts because of Edward or because-

Lying in my bed with the world outside still dark, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended the thought flitting through my head had never occurred to me.

By the time Friday rolled around, Charlie had given up speaking to me. So had Mike, Tyler, most of my other friends and almost all of my teachers. Angela, far too kind for her own good, tried to ask me what was wrong and received only a surly glare in return.

She sighed. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me."

The way she said it brought the tiniest of smiles to my lips. So patient. Glen would have hauled me by the collar of my shirt someplace private and demanded to know what was going on. If he thought I'd put up too much of a fight, he'd have Matt do the dragging.

The sun was lurking just behind the horizon that night when I went to bed. My room was still somewhat light, but I didn't care. My entire body was tired from waking in the night after my dreams.

The trees were dark, as always, branches hanging low. The shadows they cast looked like hands, reaching out for me.

"Hey, wait," Edward said, and he grabbed my wrist. "Just one thing..."

I turned to face him, breathless, hair on my neck standing on end, but not because of him.

"Anything," I told him.

I welcomed Edward's lips by parting mine, and reached up to curl my fingers in his wild hair. Edward grabbed my shoulder, hauling me close. I was running out of air by the time the kiss ended, but when Edward pulled back he seemed unaffected. I panted for air, and Edward smiled in amusement. Suddenly my heart race picked up, and I felt something cold at my neck.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, knowing that Edward must have.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't let anything happen. Don't you trust me?"

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. Edward leaned down once more, but this time he kissed the column of my neck. I shuddered, clinging to him... and woke up, painfully aware of the fact that I was not only terrified by my dream but also turned on.

"Jesus," I said out loud, and turned to look at the clock. It was 4 am, but I didn't care. I flung back the sheets and rushed to the bathroom where I turned on a frigid shower. The cold beating against my skin reminded me of the chill that would be in the air whenever Edward stood close, so I quickly turned on the hot water.

I nearly scalded myself, but soon I was able to relax back into sleepiness. I fell asleep easily once I was back in my bedroom, and didn't wake up a second time until the sun was halfway across the sky. That would have been great, if I hadn't been haunted in my dreams by Edward's face.

I felt like I was going insane. I had no interest in Edward, or any other men for that matter. During my waking hours the thought revulsed me, but when I was asleep my body betrayed me- my hands would reach for Edward, my legs would shake and my lips moved of their own will. I didn't know what was wrong with my sleeping mind, but it only made my wakeful hours more stressful. I hated being touched, I tried to remind my subconscious angrily. Especially by men. Especially like _that_.

I spent the day doing homework, or trying to. My concentration broke at the slightest provocation. I was unbelievably grateful when Mike and Tyler showed up, even though I groaned outwardly at the sight of them when I climbed in Mike's van. I saw instantly why they hadn't come inside- they probably had a fairly hard time moving, the way they were dressed. Mike was a red cup, and Tyler was wrapped in enough styrofoam to make him look like a giant, white plastic ball.

"Oh for... you two are idiots."

"We'll have the best costumes at the party," Tyler said with a shit-eating grin.

"Yeah. We'll see about that," I scoffed, but I had to smile at the glee they were taking in their costume idea.

It was clear when we got there that Mike and Tyler had based their decision of which party to go to on which one they thought was most likely to end in an arrest- or fight. Or death. Or... something else.

It was barely past nine, but we were surrounded by people so drunk they could barely walk as soon as we got inside the front door. Mike and Tyler's costumes went over well, but I thought it might be because no one around them was sober enough to make an intelligent assessment. The good thing was that with so many people drunk, the party hosts were more or less handing out free drinks. I refused several mixed drinks offered me but accepted beer with the tab still unbroken. I was still more sober than most people there, and way too conscious of the risks of accepting drinks from other people. Of course, in a house filled with drunk, costumed girls whose outfits consist mostly of a scrap or two of fabric, I figured I was barely at risk.

The thought made my stomach queasy, thinking of the creeps who came out to parties like this. One face in particular flashed through my mind, and I found myself with a handful of drunk girls surrounding me as I tried to watch over them and keep them from harm's way. It didn't help that I was soon drunk myself and barely able to keep track of who was doing what.

"Char, you worry too much," Lauren was saying next to my arm, giggling drunkenly. "You know we can handle ourselves."

"Yeah, I thought that too once," I said, my voice bitter.

"What?" Lauren asked, and I shrugged, suddenly aware of what I'd nearly said.

"I just mean... better safe than sorry."

Lauren repeated my gesture, lifting her shoulders in dismissal. "Well, whatever. I'm fine, but yeah, might not be a bad idea for someone to keep an eye on Jessica."

Lauren was right.

Jessica was barely capable of knowing where she was, letting alone making decisions like whether or not to go off with some guy. Soon enough though someone I didn't recognize was trying to convince her to go outside to his car where he'd apparently left his drink.

"Man, cut it out," I interjected, "She's too drunk."

"Too drunk to come get something with me?" he asked, keeping his stupid pretense up though I'd obviously seen through it.

"That's not what you want."

Jessica seemed confused, even when the guy muttered to me, "Come on, she probably won't even remember in the morning."

He had the grace, at least, to turn red at the disgusted look I gave him. He left, and I quickly tried to find one of Jessica's more sober friends. I couldn't protect other people, because coming into contact with the type of guys they needed to be protected from made me sick.

I found Mike and Tyler playing some drinking game with a group of people from Forks and joined gratefully.

"You look like shit," Eric said.

I was surprised to see him there, along with Ben and Angela who I had sat down beside, but noted that the three of them weren't drinking, which didn't shock me at all.

"I pretty much just had to save Jessica from certain rape," I told him in a horror-filled mumble. "I fucking hate teenaged boys."

Angela touched my arm gently.

"You're a good guy, Char," she told me, and I shook her hand off without responding. I didn't consider myself a good person out to save everyone else. I just hated the idea of people like Jason having their way. Protecting Jessica was almost my own selfish form of revenge on him.

Soon enough, I had consumed far too much and was stumbling down the hall in search of the washroom. I found it, upstairs, but had to awkwardly shuffle past a tall, dark-skinned boy a couple years older than me. He had a lot of height on me, and my face was level with his shoulder when he said, "You're cute."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice horrified. I looked up and sure enough, recognized the predatory look in his eyes. But I wasn't _nearly_ drunk enough to let myself get hurt a second time. He leaned closer and I was about to knee him between the legs when he grabbed my wrist.

Something made me freeze, and I glanced down at his hand in confusion. I wondered if I should try this. My dreams lately, or at least my reaction to them, seemed to suggest that I wouldn't be so opposed to them. As with Edward, I didn't move when he leaned down to kiss me.

But it became quickly apparent that this was nothing like Edward's kiss. Horror gripped me, choking off my airways. I couldn't breathe and suddenly all I could think of was dark walls surrounding me and laughter in my ears. I scrabbled against his chest, trying to push him off.

My eyes stung and I knew I was going to start crying. The guy stumbled back.

"Huh?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"No chance in hell," I told him in a thick voice, and darted into the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me and sunk down onto the floor, my back against the wall. I didn't cry for too long, only long enough for someone else to come along and begin banging on the door. I did my best to get out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, checking my reflection before I left. My eyes were a bit red, but hopefully that would be attributed to my drinking.

I downed what was left of the flask in my back pocket as I left the bathroom, and wandered off down the hallway. As I rounded the corner I realized I'd gone the wrong way. The upper floor was square, with the stairs in the end opposite the one I had gone to.

I groaned in frustration, hanging my head and trying to ignore the tight feeling in my chest. I wasn't sure if it was because of the knowledge that I'd let some strange guy touch me, or the knowledge that it seemed to be okay as long as it was Edward. Who was gone.

I heard voices and peered curiously into the room next to me, wanting something to take my mind off the golden eyes I could almost feel staring at me, and the hand I could still feel grabbing me.

Boys and girls alike were crowded around a table, and one of them looked up and waved me inside.

"Close the door, man," he said, his words slow and halting.

I did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

In the morning I came into consciousness without really waking up, aware of my surroundings but still drowsy enough that I didn't think I could move if I tried. I heard something to my side and rolled my head to look. A man with skin as white as ice stood in the doorway, red eyes glaring at me. His smile was rimmed with blood, and I wondered if Charlie was okay, horror feeling like a lead weight on my chest. I waited, but he never approached, only looked away and wandered down the hall. I stared at the doorway for a long time, long enough for the sun to fill the room and Charlie to walk past without glancing in. I surmised that the man I'd seen hadn't hurt him.

When I finally sat up and tossed my legs over the edge of the bed, trying to remember the night before, my mind was largely uncooperative. Half of my face felt like it'd been torn off. Anxiety filled me, sure and powerful.

I saw a packet of pills on my bedside table. I picked them up slowly, reading the label. I knew why I'd seen the man in my doorway, just as I knew where I must have gotten these. I turned to look at my backpack from Phoenix. Sure enough, though it had been largely unpacked except for a couple of items all these months, the contents were now dumped across the floor. I groaned. Jesus, had I actually been stupid enough to take those with alcohol? I tossed the pills angrily into a drawer, threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt and unsteadily made my way to the bathroom.

Halfway down the hallway, I froze. It wasn't the first time I'd had strange visions in the morning after taking those pills, but my breath came more shallowly as I realized that it might not have been a drug-induced dream. What if there _was_ someone in our house? But Charlie was fine, and I hadn't been hurt. It must have been a hallucination, I told myself. The things I had seen in the mornings when I tried using Zopiclone to sleep- usually when I was too riled on blow to pass out or even sit still- were often strange, but it was more disturbing now that I knew vampires weren't make believe.

My reflection in the mirror looked like a zombie. I was pale and the bags under my eyes were black. Most alarming, though, was the giant gash on the left side of my face. It looked like I'd had several layers of my skin roughly peeled off.

"Holy shit," I breathed, touching it gently. A spasm of pain raced across my cheek. "_Fuck_."

What the hell had I done?

I quickly began running the tap, splashing the water on my face despite the pain that caused me. I wondered if Charlie had been awake when I'd gotten home last night. He hadn't even glanced in my room when he passed it this morning. Did he suspect nothing or did he just not want to see?

I went downstairs though I didn't want to, knowing I would have to face Charlie soon enough.

"How's your face?" he asked without looking up from his paper, and I knew that he must have been awake when I got back.

I didn't answer immediately, scuffing my feet against the floor in the entryway to the kitchen.

"It hurts," I finally said.

"Hm. Big surprise that is."

I waited. Charlie obviously wasn't happy, and I knew I'd be getting lectured sooner rather than later. Or thought that, anyway. Maybe it would be worse than a lecture. Maybe Charlie would send me to live with my mother, or maybe he'd arrest me himself. Charlie didn't say anything, rustling the pages of the newspaper and paying me no attention.

Eventually I grabbed some cereal and sat down across from him, eating slowly. Chewing pulled at the scabs on my cheek, and the pain was unbelievable. Charlie finished his paper and set it aside.

"So. What am I supposed to do?" he asked me.

I hung my head, completely out of my depth. Renée had never actually lectured me, only fretted about on the periphery. Phil had on occasion tried to discipline me. But Phil wasn't my father, and I had sneered at him until he left me alone.

I opened my mouth to answer, but didn't know what to say.

"Jacob Black shows up at 3 am with you in tow," Charlie begins, and I can hear the anger building in his voice. "Completely drunk, violently lashing out at everyone you see. You got in a fight with some boy from La Push twice your size because he apparently touched your shoulder-"

Hearing Charlie say that made my stomach clench in horror. Of course, drunk, stupid me would react that way to someone casually reaching out, probably nothing more than to clap me on the back.

Charlie wasn't done.

"-_And _punched Jake's friend in the throat while they were trying to get you home. That was only what Jacob saw after he found you getting your face smashed into a _brick wall_. Who knows what you were up to before that."

I dropped my head into my hands and instantly regretted it, pain flaring up against my cuts. I hissed and pulled my hands away quickly, resting them on the table. I still couldn't bring myself to look at Charlie.

"Char."

The tone didn't broach argument. I looked up, and was surprised to see that Charlie's face wasn't angry.

"I don't want to see you go down the same path you were on in Phoenix."

"I know. I'm sorry," I said, my voice wavering and pathetic. I sounded like a 12 year old, I thought disgustedly.

"No more leaving the house on weekends," Charlie said.

"But-"

"No."

I breathed deeply, telling myself that Charlie was doing the intelligent thing by stopping me.

I nodded. "Okay."

I could take no more of Charlie's quiet appraising stare, so I went back upstairs to my room and laid down in bed. Despite my pill-induced sleep, I felt exhausted. I wondered why I'd even taken the pills. I'd bought them long ago because falling asleep after taking cocaine could be close to impossible, but I never took it very often, only when I was really desperate. They were strong enough to cause dependence on their own, and I'd never been fond of the hallucination-like dreams they caused when I was half awake. Thinking of my past made a familiar craving bubble up in my throat. I wanted coke, needed it, feeling so incredibly shitty about everything that was happening around me. I slowly uncurled myself from the tiny ball I was in. I recognized the way I felt, anxious, tired, and most of all desperate. But it was the anxiety, hot and pressing and so familiar, a _physical _anxiety, that made me wonder what had happened. I found the jeans I'd been wearing the night before on the floor.

I found nothing in the first pocket, and felt at once relieved and angered. I checked another and was disappointed again. In the third pocket my hand met the crinkle of foil, and I pulled out a tiny, folded piece of it. I slowly pulled the tinfoil apart, heart accelerating at the first flash of white within. My phone was sitting on my bedside table. Half of me wanted to toss the tinfoil pack out the window and do the same with my phone, but a considerably more vocal, and much, much more promising half hoped that in my drunken, high state I'd had the brains to get what I needed.

Sure enough, halfway down the list of my contacts was a name I knew hadn't been there before.

I bit my lip, a voice in my head that was infuriatingly like Glen's telling me to go talk to my father and not give in to this. I sat down on the edge of my bed, cradling the foil packet in my hands like it was a living child.

I stared for a long time at my phone and the silver-wrapped powder in my hands. Finally I set them both on my pillow, and got up. The door shut with a gentle click.

I had forgotten, almost, what it felt like when you took a hit, the inevitable rush of euphoria and the pulse of strength in your veins. It didn't take long to remember why this had been like breathing for me, necessary as oxygen, maybe more so. I felt like I could take on a SWAT team, or a herd of elephants. Or a vampire, I thought, with a smile that felt very queer on my face.

I thought of Edward and didn't wonder why he'd kissed me, and didn't care. I didn't need Edward Cullen. I didn't need anyone or anything, only myself and my drug.

I hadn't felt so happy in a long time. I got up and paced around my room. I wanted to do something, I felt so energetic and just _ready_ and I couldn't stay in my room all day. I looked out the window facing our driveway. Charlie's car was still there. It probably would be all day. He wouldn't leave after last night- but there was a tree by my other window, the one overlooking the side of our lawn. I didn't want to do anything crazy, I just needed to go for a jog or do _something_ with the surge of energy I felt inside me.

I tore the window open, balancing on the ledge. The tree was far. I was sure I could make it, and I leaped from my window with my hands outstretched. I barely found purchase on the branch nearest our house, grasping it tightly. Soon enough I had scrabbled down the tree and rushed into the forest. I didn't even mind the occasional rain that made it through the foliage. I ran for a long time, barely noticing where I was. I knew I'd never felt more secluded, but I didn't care. I was glad to be alone with myself. I had never felt more alive, either, and when I finally made it home it was just in time to sneak in the back door while Charlie was watching television. Just in time to get upstairs to my room, collapse on to my bed, and crash like the world was shaking apart and taking me with it.

The next day, I met Christopher- Kit, he called himself- after school, by the woods on the outskirts of town. Charlie wouldn't notice if I was a few extra minutes getting home, and it was apparent that my partying days were over. I didn't remember ever meeting Kit, but his number had been in my phone. All I remembered was the boy in the bathroom, who'd kissed me and terrified me, and I remembered wandering through the house lost and on the verge of crying again, until I found a room full of people. And after that? I suppose I must have gone inside. I must have met Kit. And as easy as that, as easy as stumbling drunkenly into a back room at a party while trying to forget Edward Cullen and the gaping hole he had left in my life, I had tapped into the Olympic Peninsula's coke supply.

I had money from working at Newtons' for the summer, but I didn't know how long it would last. I guess it depended on how quickly I blew through my stash.

Kit was a tall, shifty, white guy who lived in La Push with his girlfriend. He didn't mind the drive to Forks once a week, but I knew I couldn't be pressing my luck and asking him to deliver too often. He was, unfortunately, far too aware that I was Chief Swan's son, and not at all interested in being implicated in anything involving Charlie. I suspected that the only reason he trusted me enough to sell to me was my obvious desperate behaviour at the party the weekend before- and it had been bad, if the things I heard at school were any indication.

I was lucky enough that no one in Forks seemed to realize I had been anything but drunk, but I was skeptical of that. The stories they told me of what I'd done made it obvious to me that I had been under the influence of something much more powerful- to me, at least- than alcohol.

And cocaine _was _far more powerful for me than alcohol ever could be. It controlled me, no matter how long it had been since I'd broken off my addiction. The two times I'd done it that weekend pulled my body back to its previous dependency, and I knew I was lost again. I'd just have to be careful, I told myself.

I could do that. I couldn't do much else. I was useless, and the most disappointing son Charlie ever could have had, no doubt, but I could protect my habit. I had to, or else I didn't know what I'd do. I didn't let myself touch the coke, which I shoved to the bottom of my bookbag as I drove home. There was still some left over from the weekend, buried deep in my drawer. I told myself it had to _last_, a week at least, and I was scared what might happen if I used it so soon after the last time. I needed it, but I needed to pace myself too. I couldn't let myself get out of control, because then I'd be caught.

Charlie wasn't home yet, so it was clear his only concerns revolved around me partying on the weekend. To distract myself I attempted homework- it was impossible to concentrate on. I put on music, and tried to listen to it. Many of the songs reminded me of Edward... either I'd suggested the band to him because it was one of my favourites, or I'd heard of them _from_ him. I couldn't listen to anything that made me think of him, so I disgustedly shut off my stereo and picked up a book from the shelf. I hadn't finished this one, though I'd started it sometime in the summer. Glen loved it, and I'd been meaning to read it for so long because it was a classic- but it was depressing, and the extensive cast made me confused.

I tossed the book aside angrily and stared at my ceiling. It didn't seem to have any answers to my unspoken questions.

I looked outside. My window was still open from the day before, and rain had gathered in a puddle on the floor beneath it. Cold air gusted in, and I felt as if I was pressed up against a ghostly, icy body.

"Why did you kiss me, Edward?" I asked out loud, not caring that I was talking to myself. "You knew you were leaving."

I wondered if that was true. Would he have stayed, if I had reacted differently to his touch? If I had reacted at all? Something made me doubt it. I didn't think anything could have made Edward stay with me.

I brought my knees up and pressed my forehead into them, self-hatred consuming me. I felt lost without Edward or any of the friends who'd brought me through the dark times in my life. And I shouldn't have. In Phoenix my friends had been there for me during my darkest moments, the time of my life that would always haunt me. Edward had protected me from James- _and _he's _dead for it_, my mind whispered. But I would never need that protection again, and I could make new friends. Why did I care so much? The tiny packet that I knew was sitting in my bookbag called my name, and I tried to resist it only because I knew I needed it to last.

I pulled up the blankets to my chin, and watched the rain pool onto my floor.

My dream was different that night.

I heard the ground beneath my feet, twigs snapping as always, and I knew, I _sensed_ that there was something in the forest with me. I waited, walking slowly, for the familiar voice, and that grip on my wrist.

I turned around, searching the darkness for him.

"Edward?" I asked. "_Edward?_ Hello!"

There was no answer. I wrapped my arms around myself, afraid. I heard something shuffling in the woods behind me, and knew instinctually that it wasn't Edward. I hurried away from the noise, pushing myself to a run.

"_Wait_." Someone grabbed my wrist. I twisted painfully in his grasp. "Come on, Swan, it's just one little thing."

I knew that voice. "Let go, let go of me," I protested, but he was too strong.

"Don't be like that," he said. He gripped my chin in one of his hands, forcing me to look him in the face.

My pillow muffled my scream as I was jolted from my sleep. But not enough.

"Char?" I heard Charlie call from downstairs. "Are you alright?"

It was barely past nine, I saw, looking at the clock.

"I'm fine," I shouted down. "Bad dream."

Once again I found myself staring at my ceiling. Soon enough Charlie appeared hovering over me.

"Alright?"

"Yeah," I told him, my voice sounding... empty. "Nightmare. I'm okay."

He looked like he disagreed, but finally he left. I got up, shut the door behind him, and began rummaging through my backpack.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: **This chapter contains **explicit** description of drug use.

Another more lame warning is that I probably won't be updating this again for... awhile. Like late December or early January 'awhile.' :(

**Chapter 9**

Bag emptied onto dash, hand fishing in my pocket for a dollar bill, or any money, the other hand pulling a card out of my wallet. The usual routine, second nature. I glanced around the empty parking lot. I was on time for school so much more now that I knew that at approximately 7:40 all the teachers were already here and the students wouldn't be arriving for another ten minutes or so.

I stacked out two small lines with my I.D. while my other hand was still digging around for a paper bill. Two lines just as long as a pen cap, an automatic movement I didn't even need to think about. Finally I yanked a 20 from my pocket and rolled it quickly, leaning forward- money's fucking dirty, I know, I tell myself that every time; cut straws are better, or a pen tube chopped at the right length, but that's paraphernalia, one more piece of evidence they slam you with in court. I plugged one nostril and snorted twice, just gently enough to get it inside the nasal passage. I squeezed my nose, tilting my head back and massaging the line into the inner lining of my nostrils. One more quick huff and I leaned forward to do the other line with my other nostril.

The high hit me just as I was leaning back into my seat, groaning in contentedness. I reached over for the water bottle I always kept on the front seat now and spilled some water against the back of my head, snorting it into my nose like I'd done with coke just moments before. I smeared my finger through the residue powder on my truck's dash and then rubbed it into my gums. The numb feeling spread instantly through my mouth. I closed my eyes and waited. Soon I heard other cars pulling in to the parking lot and the voices of other students drifted in through my window, opened only a crack so I could know when I needed to be _normal_.

I saw Tyler just inside the front doors.

"Hey, man, how's it?" he greeted.

I shrugged, rubbing my tongue along my gums.

"Alright," I told him. I could have taken the entire world by storm at that moment, but Tyler would never understand.

If any of my 'friends' at Forks High ever wondered about what was going on with me, they never voiced their concerns aloud. Not to me, at least. Who knew what they were saying to each other? I didn't care, as long as I was left in peace.

Kit's coke was good. Not great, but certainly good. It didn't last long, an hour or so. Back in Phoenix I'd known guys who bought stuff for its long-lasting buzz, but that's dangerous. If cocaine gives a high that lasts much longer than an hour, means it's been cut with amphetamines, and that shit's even more addictive than coke. Kit's stuff lasted long enough that I knew for sure I wasn't getting a pure cut, but it was close enough that the subtle high of cocaine was still notably there.

I felt a drip developing in my throat and coughed a time or two. First period was great, second period I felt the come down, and I stared at the clock for the majority of third. In the last few minutes I asked the teacher if I could step out early to go to the bathroom.

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and I left quickly. One line only, tapped out as quick as I could on the bathroom counter. I tried not to do coke in school, but my dream last night was vivid and I felt like shit without the constant rush through my veins.

At least this time it hadn't been Jason I was dreaming of, following me through the woods. I had heard Edward's voice and had spun around to face him before he even reached for my wrist.

He'd regarded me curiously as I stepped toward him.

"Just one thing," I said in a shaky voice, and reached for him. Edward responded eagerly, effortlessly maneuvering me backward and pressing me into the hard trunk of a tree behind me, scratching my skin through my t-shirt... until the rough bark became my bed sheets and I woke up panting and painfully aroused.

I had gone straight for my coke supply, and was already on my third hit that day. I rubbed my nose as I left the bathroom. Dreams of Edward were much better than dreams of Jason, but I couldn't help but feel just as depressed and confused after those dreams anyway. I felt as if something had been taken from me, the same way I did when I thought of what had happened between Jason and I- but I could never figure out what it was I was missing.

I would need to buy more blow soon, sooner than usual. I knew Kit wouldn't agree to make the trip to Forks again. That'd be three times this week. Which meant I had to get to him. I could go to La Push throughout the week, maybe under the context of going to visit Jake.

I hadn't spoken to Jake in 6 weeks, when he dragged me home from that disastrous party with my face all beat up. He was a fun guy, and I'd enjoyed his company more than anyone else in this miserable place, bar Edward... But after hearing the way I'd acted, I'd been way too ashamed to try and contact him in any way, and he certainly hadn't attempted to contact me. Jake and I barely knew each other, but he'd still put up with my shit to get me back to Charlie's. I owed him an apology at least, and more importantly a thanks, but that would never happen.

"Excited for Christmas?" someone asked. I was startled into some sort of awareness of my surroundings. I did this a lot, found myself wandering down the hall without really paying attention to where I was.

It was Angela.

"Uh, I don't know. I guess."

She smiled tightly. Angela was smart, and I thought she probably suspected much more than anyone else.

"Will you go visit your mom?" she asked.

"No," I said quickly, sure of the answer. I wouldn't go to Jacksonville for a week. I had no contacts there and even if my mother didn't recognize the symptoms of someone on coke, she'd recognize withdrawal. She'd seen it before.

"I don't usually get to spend Christmas with Charlie, so, it'll be a new experience," I went on, trying to excuse my answer for reasons I couldn't explain.

"Hm."

I didn't eat at lunch. I didn't eat much at all anymore. I knew I was losing weight, but it wasn't enough so far that anyone had noticed. I texted Kit before fourth period was over and left at the beginning of fifth. I'd tell Charlie I went home early with a headache if the school called Or I'd wait for them to leave a message on the phone and then delete it.

I bought a bigger amount than I usually did, shelling out more money than I really wanted to. Kit swore he'd gotten some incredibly pure stuff somewhere and didn't think he would again anytime soon. It was expensive, but I hoped it'd be worth it. I would need some income soon if I was going to keep this up.

I parked my truck on a dirt road off the I-10, cutting a tiny line of the powder. It was pearly white in colour, and extremely fine. I suspected that Kit was telling the truth about the quality, and it made me eager.

_Fuck yes_. The high hit me quick, and it was perfection and glory as it sluiced through my veins. I felt fucking fantastic, my entire body alert and high strung. The rain sounded like the marching of a thousand men, and the power of an entire nation's army didn't feel that far away as the cocaine lifted me up until I could feel myself breaking.

I sat in my truck for longer than I intended, and by the time I finally drove home I was hoping desperately that Charlie didn't get out of work even a little bit early. I was just tromping up the stairs when I heard the cruiser pull into the drive. I ignored him and retreated to the dark safety of my room.

The high hadn't lasted long, no more than 25 minutes. The comedown was so terrible I could barely move, and I lie in bed with no company but my own misery and the gathering darkness of nighttime as the clock moved time slowly forward. Even burrowed within my blankets, curled in upon myself, I could not evade the chill that seemed to steal into my room with the last of the light. I shivered, freezing and angry, though I couldn't say who or what I was angry at. My shaking was so intense I felt as if my skin might slide straight off my bones.

I knew what little sense there would be in getting up to change the thermostat. There was only one thing that could stop this type of chill, and I reminded myself how many times I'd already given in throughout the day.

I watched the trees' shadows outside lengthen, until they were long and distorted like reaching claws, until the sky was so dark that the shadows were no longer discernible from the ground. I remembered a day so long ago when Edward had told me not to go in the woods alone, and I thought of one of Glen's favourite quotes, a saying he was fond of that had always bothered and disturbed me. _The night is dark and full of terrors_.

And I had been one acquainted with them, I thought sadly, unsure which terrors haunted me most. _Him_, the darkest shadow from my past, whose voice followed me in my dreams? Vampires, real and terrible? I was scared to fall asleep, to dream of either of those things. Yet neither of them was forcing me to keep my eyes open despite my exhaustion. When I closed my eyes I saw Edward's face, and I knew I didn't want to dream of him again, didn't want to relive the thievery of his kiss one more time. I still couldn't name the thing I thought he'd stolen from me.

"Why?" I asked the dark, silent room. "Why kiss me?"

I hadn't expected an answer. I wasn't sure anymore I even wanted the answer. I felt my eyelids drooping shut and struggled to remain awake. When I opened my eyes again, Edward was sitting in the corner of my room, staring at me with impassive black eyes.

"Why did you kiss me?" I asked him, but he didn't answer. I felt my eyelids flutter and breathed deep. Edward disappeared as suddenly as he'd shown up, and I realized that I had been asleep, though briefly. I wished he was there, so I could ask him the things I wanted to know.

"Why kiss me, and why leave afterward?" I whispered. "You left me alone."

Alone in my bed, subdued by exhaustion and the cold, humbled by Edward's theft, I finally slept, my dreams as dark and filled with the terrors Edward had left behind for me as the night itself was.


	10. Chapter 10

So my exams are over the next two weeks, plus Christmas and all that good shit, which means I won't have any time to write/update. So I tried to get this one done a bit earlier than originally intended, so my lovely readers would have at least one chapter over a two month period or so.

**Warning: This chapter might (?) contain explicit drug use. I don' t really remember but I mean COME ON there is a pretty good chance at this point...**

**Chapter 10**

Time dragged. Time always seemed to drag, unless I was railing, and then it went by too quickly. Still, time passes; even when it's so slow you can hardly percept it going by, time passes.

Time dragged, and addiction pulled, an angry, worn out thing inside me I could never escape. Not that I wanted to. Cocaine was my closest friend, it sometimes felt. When I woke in the night, screaming, with no one to turn to, it, at least, was always there for me.

"I won't watch this anymore."

"Hm?" I didn't bother to look up from my meal, picked at and strewn about my plate but largely uneaten. A few bites was all I was ever hungry for. Eating was more of a chore than anything else.

"Char!"

"Yes?" I glanced up at Charlie, staring at me with the same sort of horror he usually did.

"This is getting ridiculous, you never eat, you don't-" Charlie sighed, and picked at his own plate for a moment. I felt half-afraid that he knew, that he was going to cut me off. But surely he wouldn't be approaching it like this, were that the case. I couldn't let him cut me off, just couldn't, I needed it, needed it. "I suppose I should have been expecting this," he said. "All the sources I've come across say that recovering addicts get depressed, but you didn't at first and it's been so long..."

I felt relieved. Depression. I took every precaution to avoid Charlie from discovering my usage, but I suppose it was impossible that he'd never notice my erratic behaviour. Was I depressed? Sometimes when I was crashing it felt that way, but for the most part, I had everything I needed. Let Charlie think what he wanted.

"Maybe you should start some sort of therapy."

"I don't need therapy," I told Charlie in a deadened voice, the same voice I used most of the time, I supposed.

"You won't even eat..." he said weakly. I lifted a forkful to my mouth, chewed without thinking.

Charlie watched silently as I ate. He wanted to say something else; I could tell by his puckered brow and the way he constantly opened and closed his mouth. He didn't speak, and I was glad. My head was hurting, and the cravings sent a physical shock through my body. I hadn't used in days; the comedown the weekend before had been so utterly horrifying that I'd forced myself to stave off for awhile, haunted by the memory. Rarely in my life had I ever felt so unsure and awful as I had for those few days, certain that every shadow was an enemy, fatigued and irritable and more than anything else afraid.

"Char..." Charlie began, but I stood, emptying the remainder of my food into the garbage.

"It'll pass," I told him.

I had waited long enough, and the thought of doing another hit had me moving more quickly than usual as I made my way up the stairs.

As usual the drugs made me feel warm inside and out, my body entirely ablaze with energy. But the high can only last so long, and too soon my happiness turned into anger and revulsion, and my entire body was itchy, as if something was living buried in my flesh. I scratched my arms and stared out the window, suddenly anxious. I was certain I saw something moving in the trees, and squeezed my eyes shut. Was Charlie having me watched? He didn't trust me, that much was certain. He _said_ he thought I was depressed, but I couldn't believe him, couldn't trust him or anybody.

_You're imagining things_, I told myself, never really believing. _You're just seeing things. _With the anxiety came fatigue, but I knew I wouldn't sleep for hours.

I rolled over and fumbled in the drawer of my side table, fishing out the packet of pills that I'd been ignoring for so long. I had no idea where in Forks I'd get my hands on something to help me sleep once these were gone. One was enough to bring on the blackness.

I was so comfortably warm the next morning that I couldn't even begin to think of moving. My eyelids continually drooped as I lie in bed, contented for once despite not being high. My cell phone rang at my ear and I stared at it for a long time before I stretched one hand out to fumble it off my bedstand.

"Hello?" I answered sleepily.

"Swan?" a raspy voice asked.

I yawned, rolling onto my side. The phone was pressed between my ear and the pillow, and I nearly fell asleep atop it before mumbling, "this is Char Swan."

The voice on the other end whispered something so low I thought I must have misheard. A chill ran through my veins, and I hoped that I had.

"Huh?"

Louder, they repeated what they'd said before, in a tone that was broken and malevolent. "I will rip out your innards."

I didn't know what to say to that, didn't think I _could_ respond. I lie perfectly still, barely breathing, listening as they continued to repeat that same line. In the beginning, it was almost conversational. They sounded cruel, but paused each time they said it before saying it again.

"I will rip out your innards. I will rip out your innards. I will rip out your innards."

But after a few moments of quiet listening, I couldn't handle the escalation, and hung up as they were screaming at me, placing the phone gently on the side table.

"I WILL RIP OUT YOUR INNARDS I WILL RIP OUT YOUR INNARDS I WILL RIP OU-"

I flipped over onto my back. When I placed my palm over my chest, I could feel my heart's erratic pace. I wanted to find Charlie, to tell him anout the phone call. But I was still so _tired_, I could only lie there, half-paralyzed by my fear and exhaustion.

School would be starting soon, I realized dimly. I would miss first period. I couldn't make myself care. I kept hearing that voice in my head, over and over. The world outside my warm cocoon of blankets seemed dark and unwelcoming. It was easier to stay in bed all day than risk facing the things I had waiting for me out there- people were cruel, and Forks High School was a cesspool of ignorant morons, droning about their issues, their unkind parents, their teachers who showed no compassion for their laziness.

The world had shown no compassion to _me_, had given me no respite from the figures of my past that haunted me. Jason followed my every waking step, reminding me that I was useless, broken, that I'd never live happily because even in death he was in every shadow. Edward visited me in almost every dream, as relentless as Jason.

_Almost_ every dream.

Those where he didn't come were the worst, because then I was alone.

Even the warmth faded eventually, and I lie in my bed shivering, completely given up on going to school. Getting out of bed even long enough to get dressed seemed a daunting, impossible task. I had no energy, and was overwhelmed by the thought that this life on earth was a terrible thing to have to endure.

When I finally forced myself to crawl out of bed, hours after I first woke up, I was struck by the sudden knowledge that I was starved. Just as I was about to leave my room, I froze, turning back to look at my phone. It was sitting just where it had been the night before, of course, on my stand beside my bed. I'd imagined the phone call, I realized disgustedly, reminded once more why I hated needing assistance to sleep.

I ate the first edible thing I found in the fridge, and then the next, until I could eat no more. When I looked out the window, I saw that it was late. How had the day gone by me without me knowing? I'd missed the lighter hours, and Forks' sky was already darkening once more. In the silence of the kitchen, I was hyper aware of my own breathing, my bare feet against the cold linoleum making no noise. It was almost nice, the feeling of being alone. For a moment I pretended that I was completely alone in the world, that there were no mindless teenagers to gripe with each other about their petty problems when _mine, _so much more real, went unignored. No parents to rein me in. No Jasons, and no Edwards... The clock in the living room suddenly chimed to indicate the hour, my heart jumping at the violation of the room's peacefullness. Afterward the quiet was so different than what it had seemed, a deathly stillness in which the sound of my own heart's pounding was deafening.

I thought of Jason, unable to think why he was suddenly on my mind. I was inexplicably afraid of my memories of him as it occurred to me that they were driving me insane. Was I going crazy? I wondered if this was normal behaviour for someone- someone like me. Whatever that even meant.

I rested my hand on the counter, eyes squeezed shut. I felt myself breathing more quickly, struggling for air. Over the sound of my desperate gasping I heard something that made me pause- the quiet thrum of a score of violins, low and eerie. I opened my eyes, wandering into the living room and looking around. The television was off, and the radio. The sound was coming from upstairs. I climbed the steps slowly, recognizing the tune... one Glen insisted was one of the greatest songs of all time, but as far as I could tell had been written only as a testament of the crushing horror of life.

I peered into my bedroom, standing back from the door. Finding it empty except for the voice of the soprano singer, I crossed the room to my stereo, flicking it off in the middle of her phrase... _no song unsung, no wine untasted..._

I turned around to survey the room once more. It was as empty as it had been when I first came in. I bent over, checking under the bed though my instincts told me just to leave. Nothing. The windows were all closed...

The closet doorknob felt cold in my grip, my entire body wracked with sudden chill. But inside I found the same thing I'd found beneath my bed. Nothing. A sudden noise made me jump and back up against the wall, casting my eyes about wildly while my heart hammer.

"Char?"

Charlie, downstairs. He'd just gotten home. I cursed my overactive imagination, shutting the closet door and wandering out of my room. I paused in the hallway. Just behind me, there was a quiet clicking. I closed my eyes, breathed deep.

"Char?" Charlie called again from downstairs. The noise behind me grew closer.

I turned to look, and standing just below the door frame was a monstrous black shape, vague but humanlike, with a red face and claws that reached for me and eyes so dark they were indiscernible from the shadows cast by the hood it wore.

I fell backward screaming, and felt my head connect with the wall, blackness overcoming my vision, though briefly. I was suddenly overcome with the sensation of falling, of being unable to feel anything solid beneath me.

My vision began to clear, and I felt the floor beneath my hands, the wall at my back. Charlie was at my side, calling my name, demanding to know what had happened.

The thing was gone, though it'd been just in front of me only a moment before.

"There was something... someone... in my room," I told Charlie, and he went to investigate as I had been doing just moments before.

The windows were still closed. The dark space beneath the bed as empty as it had been. Charlie opened the door to the closet that I had just shut, and found nothing. But...

"It was right there," I whispered, standing shakily, moving the bedroom door to look behind it. "A man... or... I could have sworn."

"Char..." Charlie's voice was gentle, but I was immediately distrustful. "You must have been imagining it.. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I snapped angrily. I knew what he was implying. He was going to think I was having hallucinations, he'd start monitoring me, trying to catch me.

"Maybe you should eat something," he suggested, "You're exhausted."

"I'm _fine_," I repeated, this time more coldly.

"You're irritable as hell, you haven't eaten."

"I just ate."

"Well then what's wrong with you?" Charlie demanded, this time sounding angry himself.

"_Nothing,_" I shouted. "Nothing!"

Charlie's expression looked suspicious as he studied me, so I cast my eyes downward, hunching my shoulders. _Depression, _I told myself. _Encourage Charlie to think what he wants to believe._

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "It's just... everything's so hard. I'm tired."

I heard Charlie's sigh, and saw his feet come into view. He rested his hands on my shoulder.

"I just want you to... to get better, Char. I'm not _trying _to be unkind. But once you start seeing things that aren't there... I think you need some sort of therapy, at least a check-up at the doctor's office to make sure..."

_To make sure what?_ I wanted to demand, but I refrained. The idea was to trick Charlie, not to further prove what he already suspected.

"No... _No_. Please, I just need more time. I... I'll eat better, I'll... sleep better." I already slept most of the time, often when I was supposed to be at school. "Please."

Charlie's fists tightened their grip on my shoulders. He hesitated a long time, and I let myself look up between my eyelashes, my face carefully repentant.

"This really has to stop," Charlie said. "I can't watch you self-destruct any longer... There's only a few months left of school, and if the calls I keep getting from your teachers are any indication, the chances of you graduation are... small. You're ruining your own future, Char."

"I-" I didn't know what to say, how to weasel my way out of this. Schoolwork was a depressing thought, almost as depressing as the thought of going to school itself and having to be around all those people, none of whom I trusted and none of whom would ever understand why.

"You need to start eating again," Charlie said firmly. "You need to go to classes and do your work."

Oh, Charlie. It was almost sad how little experience he had at parenting. Then again, Renée had raised me from the time I was a baby, and she had tried the same pathetic limitations, only to discover how little help they were.

"Of course, Dad. Anything," I promised.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The sheet of rain that dripped from my face as I left Forks' High barely registered, the cold soaked so deeply into my skin I couldn't perceive it increasing. My sneakers and jeans were sodden and my hair clung to my cheeks. On the periphery, I saw dark shapes and movement, and turned to look. Beneath the trees, where a finger of the forest reached out to touch the parking lot, I saw a hunched and hooded figure. But it retreated as soon as I looked, and though I stood staring for a moment I saw nothing else. Fear constricted my lungs, and I retreated to the cab of my truck, locking the doors behind me when I got in.

I sat in my truck for a long time, waiting for the heater to kick in, though it probably wouldn't help, the way my clothing was drenched.

Forks seemed particularly dreary as I drove through town. It was February, and the sun had taken to setting on any activities one attempted to accomplish throughout the day.

The driveway was empty when I got home, as it always was, and the door locked. I jammed my key in the lock, jiggling it impatiently as the chill bit at my skin. Inside the warmth was like hot breath on my cheeks, as if I were standing toe to toe with someone.

The house was not silent as it should have been, but there was music drifting down from the upper floor. I took the stairs two at a time. This happened often- my stereo would be on, though I hadn't touched it and Charlie wasn't home; always, it was the same song. Eerie though it was, it almost would have been tolerable if it had been any other song. The lyrics were flat, hopeless, a constant reminder that life wasn't worth living. I unplugged the stereo this time, ripping the cord from the wall, unwilling to risk having it turn on without me again.

I breathed heavily for a few moments, my heart racing. I wondered if the person who'd turned the music on was still in the house. Surely, I would have known by now if there was someone endangering me. Yet nothing happened- I saw someone, _something_ more aptly, following me from the corners of my eyes often, as I had earlier. But it never approached as closely as it had that first day.

I trudged over to my dresser, fumbling through it until I found a half-filled bag. Charlie, ever-watchful now that he'd laid down his ground rules, expected more activity than just sleeping. That was fine. One line now and one in an hour or two would give me enough energy to finish my homework. Then I would eat, for Charlie's benefit. And then I could disappear into my room, do blow and toss and shake until I finally slept. And I would do the same thing tomorrow_. Easy_.

…Except that nothing was ever easy, not anymore. Sleeping was impossible, no matter how tired I was. I collapsed into bed at night _desperate_ for the relief of my exhaustion, but I awoke every morning in a cold sweat, regretting it. If I could never sleep, I would never have dreams. I thought of Edward much less during the day now that he'd almost entirely left my dreams- replaced by something far worse- but some mornings, I laid in bed and wished I could stay awake forever, the way he and his family did.

I couldn't, and I could no longer lie in bed pretending the world outside didn't exist, either. Charlie wouldn't leave for work in the mornings until he'd seen me out the door. I dragged myself out of bed every morning only after my extra boost of energy from railing.

It occurred to me many mornings, especially of late, that when every task in life—_every task_, going to school, eating, hell even _using the washroom_—couldn't be accomplished without the extra energy that cocaine gave… perhaps it wasn't worth it to try anymore. Sometimes at night I would touch the wooden case of the gun Charlie had given me, buried deep in my closet, and think about how good it would be, to no longer have to deal with everything. My fingers would brush over the metal latches, but I never unlocked it. I would think of Charlie hearing the discharge and rushing to find me, the look on his face… of Renée, when she received the inevitable phone call. I wondered how long it would take my friends to find out I'd died. Would they think I was simply ignoring them again when I refused to respond to the texts they sent me? After being away from each other for so long, would they _care_?

Sometimes, my mind wandered to Edward. I remembered the first time he'd shown himself to me in sunlight, and the conversation we'd had. I told him that if he hadn't been there to save me, I wouldn't have survived a second ordeal like the one I'd been through with Jason, whether or not I was left alive after—because I would have ended my life myself if I'd gone through that again.

_"Do _not_ say that," _Edward had said, horrified at what I was implying. But I'd told him it was okay, because he'd been there for me.

Now that he no longer was, I wondered if he'd still be as appalled at the idea of me offing myself. Most people kissed to show they cared for someone, and if that was the case I guess he might have been upset at my death. It wasn't something I felt very confident in, like most things.

So this was the state my life was in—it was miserable to think about. Reflecting on it only made me more unhappy—so I guess I was lucky that Charlie knocked at the doorframe just then, wrenching me from my thoughts. I looked up at him from where I was slumped on the floor against my bed. My hand was covering the bag of coke, and I tightened my fingers instinctually.

"You alright?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah," I said, a little dazed. "Yeah, sorry. I must have… zoned out." I glanced out the window to see that it was getting dark. It was the first time that had happened in a while. I guess I was lucky that Charlie was able to forgive the occasional lapse in… routine, or whatever it was I had.

"Dinner's ready," he told me.

"Sure, I'll be right down."

Neither Charlie nor I had ever been particularly talkative, but it seemed sad that those were the last words we spoke to each other until I went to school the next morning and he grunted a terse farewell. I often got the sense that he was tired of dealing with me—but perhaps I was being unfair. Maybe Charlie was tired of always having to look after someone, of never having time to do things he enjoyed in the company of others. After all, he'd looked after flighty, absent-minded Renée during their marriage. He'd let his wife leave him to look after his dying parents rather than moving to Phoenix with her. And now he had me for a son, who he had to look after just to be sure I ate and functioned like a human being. Some days I regretted my behavior, for Charlie's sake. Most days, I didn't care.

At school, away from Charlie's watchful eyes, I still forced myself to eat. Lunch time was something of a joke. My 'friends' had all figured out that something was wrong with me—but none save for Angela tried to do anything about it, and even she had given up lately. I ate in silence, listening to the conversation buzzing around me. I should have tried blocking them out, because listening only made me angry at—the world, I guess. People, in general.

Perhaps it was selfish of me—arrogant, or self-important, but I hated hearing the students at Forks' High complain about their problems.

"Mr. Banner gives too much homework," Tyler would say.

"We broke up," Lauren announced through tears.

"Mom and Dad are probably divorcing," Eric told us glumly one day.

_My problems are worse_, my inner voice hissed. And not just mine, I would think to myself. People all over the world suffered hardships, and the people I spent my time with had things handed to them on platters, yet they complained anyway.

Annicka, a friend of Eric's who only sat with us occasionally at lunch, had launched that particular day into the story of the night before. She'd gone to McDonald's…

"The fries were, like, cold. It was so gross, I went back and asked them to give me fresh ones and the girl was a total bitch about it. I was like, '_Hello, you guys are the ones who fucked up?'_"

The others made sounds of sympathy. I swallowed around a pull of water that felt too thick, too heavy.

"Does it ever occur to you that there are people in the world _fighting_ to eat?" I asked her blandly. She stared at me and then rolled her eyes. "I guess it probably doesn't," I went on, "otherwise you'd probably have stopped eating enough to feed an entire family for a month in one sitting, right?"

Annicka didn't respond. She had lifted a forkful of potatoes halfway to her mouth and was frozen in place, looking at me in horror.

"_Char,_" I heard Jessica gasping.

I picked up my tray and left without speaking. The conversation that erupted behind me was probably unkind, but I didn't care what they thought of me. For a second, I did think of all the people out there starving for food, small children with swollen bellies. People who had no control over their own lives… People who had someone else dictating what happened to them and their bodies. It was an injustice I felt sympathy for, one that seemed a lot like my own nightmares, I guess. But I couldn't for even that brief second pretend that I was some pioneer for what was right, or even that starving children on the other side of the world was what had made me insult Annicka. I thought of Ben, who was so obsessed with food but never ate. I tried to picture him in a McDonald's, eating a hamburger and then demanding his fries were warmer. I could only picture him, tiny and unsure, at the table in Glen's kitchen, slowly eating a salad so small it wouldn't sustain a child.

I hated Annicka and her cold fries; Tyler and his homework; …Lauren and the boyfriend who'd always treated her well until they split. I remembered my last relationship; her name had been Amanda. We dated for two years. Once, I'd thought I'd marry her when I was older. Maybe I would have, if I'd never experienced… that night. After that the idea of another person touching me, sharing my life the way Amanda did, had repulsed me. The principle of a _relationship_, as if she deserved the right to dictate how I spent my time, to have some claim on _my life_, seemed… wrong.

My fourth period class was World Issues. I sat in the back with my head down. It was a relatively easy class to get by in, at least on the surface—we watched a lot of documentaries and gave our thoughts. There was nothing to be memorized or learned, no calculations. You just had to form an opinion, or pretend to. We weren't very far into the term, and so far we'd talked a lot about international wealth distribution and factory farming. I'd surmised that the teacher wanted us to think that both of these things were bad, so that's what I wrote on all my papers.

I slumped down into my seat in the back, ignoring the teacher. She dimmed the lights, and we sat in darkness as the TV in front flickered to life. I looked away, bored already. My mind kept wandering back to what had happened at lunch, filtering out the sounds of the jungle coming from the television.

The beginnings of the documentary's narrative were harder to ignore.

"_Rape_ has always been used as a weapon of war," a woman's voice said. I didn't hear her next words. On the screen was the face of a man, his head wrapped.

"Just ask him to tell me what he did," the same voice said.

My heart hammered in my chest, but I told myself to breathe calmly. I looked down at my hands as the man answered. I couldn't understand his native language, and couldn't see the subtitles this way. It was easy to ignore when I couldn't understand what any of the voices were saying. But even when the American narrator spoke, I got by. The voices of the many women and men I heard were mostly very calm, and I could almost pretend they were talking about the weather. It was a good system, until I made the mistake of glancing up briefly. On the screen was an image of a woman—dead, I supposed, her clothes torn off except for her top, and the scarf covering her forehead. Her body was mottled with bruises, and there was blood pooling between her knees.

My stomach heaved, and hot, sour spit pooled in the back of my mouth. I didn't stay in the classroom long enough to make sense of the second image that appeared. As I stumbled from my seat, I saw the blank expressions of my peers, watching the documentary as if they were completely unaffected.

I gathered my books, passing Mike's desk on the way out. He grabbed my arm, as if to slow me down—maybe he only wanted to ask if I was okay. I didn't care. I shook off his hand, disgusted at the feel of flesh on flesh.

I stumbled out into the rain, breathing deeply. Nearby a finger of the forest reached out to touch the parking lot, and I stumbled in that direction, dropping my things in the underbrush and leaning heavily against a tree. My stomach didn't stop its churning after I'd purged what little I'd eaten that day.

I peered into the darkness of the forest ahead of me, but somehow the shapes of the leaves kept twisting into the disaffected faces of the other students, the pattern of yellow bruises on dark skin… and dirt smeared along the bottom of a brick wall, hands grasping against pavement, seeking purchase.

My fingernails dragged along the bark of the tree I was leaning against. I felt them breaking and breathed in until my lungs were sore. I expelled the breath in one long gust, the way Glen used to tell me to do when he was trying to calm me down. It worked a lot less without a reassuring voice in my ear, and soon my breathing was quick and shallow again.

I walked beneath the trees, rubbing my forehead, twigs snapping underfoot. My pacing was restless, aimless. I tried repeating everything my friends had ever said to help me relax; I sang to myself; I counted to 100 and then backwards. Nothing helped and soon enough when I looked up I felt as if I had woken into my dreams. I didn't recognize where I was, and the forest was dark all around me, with no suggestion of light to hint where I'd come from. I couldn't seem to care. I kept walking, still unsure of which way to go. The light grew dimmer, and the rain soaked my clothes as it dripped from the leaves overhead, but I didn't feel cold. I couldn't feel much of anything, except for the pounding of my heart, as if it was working too hard to accommodate the moderate pace I was walking at.

I kept seeing blank faces, eyes registering the blood spattered across that dead woman's thighs and not flinching, not blinking. I heard at times the echoes of the utter silence of that classroom, at other times cold laughter over the sound of crying… The two didn't seem to sound so different, the farther into the forest I wandered.

Finally I stopped, resting the back of my head against a tree branch. I wasn't sure what the point of walking was any longer. I wasn't sure what the point of going back would be either. Instead I slid down to the ground and raised my eyes to the sky, blinking against the rain. The cold was starting to seep in enough that I felt it. I lay down against the wet grass, and it tickled my cheeks. They were almost numb, and I only barely felt it. I felt as if I was waiting, though I couldn't say what for.

In the scheme of things, I didn't feel it really mattered.

* * *

><p>A few quick notes: First, I'm really sorry for the wait. This chapter has been really difficult to write for a few reasons, among them that it is probably one of the darker chapters I will have to write for this series, and constant depressive narrative is not easy to do. (Which leads me to an apology for the quality of this chapter. I know it's not quite up to par but I just <em>don't<em> have the heart or motivation to edit it.) More importantly, due to personal problems I have fallen seriously ill and _seriously_ behind in my schoolwork. Since I'm still playing catch up, I don't expect updates to become regular again until late April. There will probably be another chapter between now and then, but unfortunately I won't be adding to this story regularly. Thanks for the patience!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I woke hours later in blackness. My clothes were soaked through, and it felt like I could barely move; my joints were too stiff from the cold. I pulled myself to my hands and knees and rested that way for a long time, my whole body shuddering. I realized suddenly that I had to get home as soon as possible. If I'd lain on the forest floor for much longer in weather like this, I probably wouldn't have survived the night. The cold had seeped so thoroughly into my bones that my legs shook with the effort of every step

I wasn't entirely sure what direction I'd came from, and it was too dark to look for anything familiar. I hoped that moving would at least keep me warm, and if I went the wrong way I was bound to eventually find a stream that would lead me toward the river. I walked until my legs felt numb instead of painful, until I wondered what time it was, and dug into my jeans for my phone to find it gone. Had I left it beneath the tree I'd rested against? I'd stumbled over so many roots in the dark and switched courses to find the clearest path that I wasn't sure which way I'd even come from.

Well, if I hadn't found my way back by then, I'd know around what time it was when the sun rose.

In the silence my breath was laboured and my footsteps lonely. The rain was a drizzle above my head, barely making it through the canopy of the forest. I was wet anyway, from the time spent laying on the ground. The leaves rustled, and twigs cracked beneath my feet, a steady rhythm– one, two, one, two, left, right.

I paused when the rhythm faltered despite my even steps. The trees were unmoving around me, but I could still hear crackling. My footsteps had not been so lonely as I thought. My heart began to thud in my chest and I started moving again, faster, in the direction opposite the noise I heard, when suddenly it seemed the footsteps were ahead of me after all and I had been moving toward them without realizing it. The trees rustled– and out stepped Edward.

I stilled, realizing that I was still asleep somewhere beneath that tree, probably freezing to death.

"Char? There you are, Jesus, I've been looking for you. Charlie's worried, we all are."

"I– what?" This was not a conversation Edward and I usually had in these dreams.

He grimaced and stepped closer. "Alice– saw you getting lost, so I came back to... make sure you were okay. You are, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

"I– well, no. Maybe. You're... really here..."

I reached up to wipe at my nose, runny from the cold. In the darkness, the back of my hand had a black streak on it. Red in better light, no doubt. Nose bleed. I looked up, terrified suddenly, but Edward barely seemed to notice the blood. He was directly in front of me now, expression gentle.

"Char..." he started, sounding hesitant. He grabbed my wrist, the way he'd done before he left.

"Uh– wait," I said. "Don't you think we should... talk about this?"

"Why wait?" he asked, crowding me back against a tree. "I missed you."

"Listen, I've missed you, too, and it's not that I'm against this; I just think we should– talk. You should– wait."

Edward didn't wait, but flattened his body against mine, kissing me despite my muffled protestations. He captured my jaw in his fingers, his body stronger than an iron weight holding me in place. I couldn't escape, couldn't move, couldn't even speak or _choose_–

I woke up with a scream caught in my throat, warm, my head cushioned on someone's knees, blinking against the dim lamp light revealing my living room. I gasped for breath.

"Char?"

I twisted my body sluggishly so that I could turn my head to face the person above me, realizing as I rolled that I had the heavy weight of my duvet on me. Blue eyes set into a tan, handsome face peered down at me.

"Glen?"

I coughed. My throat was sore, and I could barely speak. I rubbed at my neck with my hand, suddenly aware of how cold I was.

"Hey, 'bout time you woke up. You had us all worried."

I started to sit up. The blanket slid down from my shoulders and I realized that I was naked underneath. Instinctively I pulled it tightly around myself.

"Don't worry," Glen said quietly. "Matt and I got your clothes off. You were soaked. But we preserved your dignity."

He smiled tightly.

"I– what time is it?" My voice sounded like it hadn't been used in months.

"Almost 1 in the morning. Matt, Ben, and I got in around 11." He frowned. "I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner... I... We got on a plane as soon as we possibly could after you called."

"After I– what? I didn't call." I tossed my legs over the sofa, resting my head in my hands. The living room was empty except for Glen and I, but I could hear several voices in the kitchen.

"You must not remember. It would have been around 4 o'clock. The doctor said you were probably pretty out of it. You nearly froze to death."

I struggled to remember calling Glen, but all I could remember was going to sleep at the roots of an old tree, and then my dream about Edward. My lungs rattled with my next breath, my heart hammering as I thought of the feeling of being crushed against the tree with no hope of moving or getting away... I squeezed my eyes shut. It was just a dream, no doubt fueled by the very reason I'd been in the woods to begin with– the documentary from class. And then, the woods being the last place I'd seen Edward... My brain was just piecing things together. He wouldn't actually do that.

(_Except that he has done that_.)

It didn't matter anyway. Edward was gone. It was just a stupid dream.

"How did I get back here?" I asked, still unable to remember anything beyond falling asleep.

"Uhm, some guys from the reservation nearby helped. Friends of your dad's friend, I guess? They brought you in a half hour or so after we got in... They found you lying under a tree, " he went on, his voice subdued. "You were so pale, when they brought you in..."

His voice trailed off, uncertain.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Heavy footsteps broke into the conversation. I turned to see Matt coming down the stairs. He had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the landing as he reached the middle of the staircase.

He grinned and helped up a bundle of cloth for my inspection.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Brought you some clothes. I just grabbed 'em off your bed, hope they aren't too dirty."

"Thanks, man," I answered, catching the clothing as he tossed them to me. I pulled on the sweat pants and t-shirt, suddenly thinking about what he'd said... If I hadn't had them sitting on the bed, he would have had to go through my drawers; he would have found something, undoubtedly. Charlie might be oblivious, but it occurred to me that my friends knew me too well, they'd watched me balancing drugs and life before, and it'd only be a matter of time before...

"Hungry?" Glen asked, cutting into my thoughts just as I yanked the t-shirt down over my head. "Ben made food."

"Uh, yeah," I said, trying to force a smile. Before we made our way into the kitchen, Charlie emerged with Dr. Snow.

"Char," she said warmly. "You're awake. How're you feeling?"

"Uhh, fine. Hungry. Tired."

"To be expected. You're lucky you were found when you were. Do you remember falling down, hitting your head?"

"No, I just... Fuck, I... got lost, so I sat down for a bit. I must've fallen asleep."

She turned away from me, as if that answered all her questions. I wasn't ungrateful, but I was sure Glen would be ranting later about how incompetent she was.

"Well, he's awake," she was saying to Charlie as I went past into the kitchen. "If there's no head injury, I'm sure he's fine. I'll be back to check on him in the morning. I suspect we'll have to bring in the school therapist, or perhaps a psychologist from Port Angeles..."

Nothing could have sounded like a worse idea at that moment, but I knew that arguing would get me nowhere.

In the kitchen, four burly men– who must have been the guys from the reservation– were sitting at the table, eagerly digging into large bowls of soup in front of them. Ben was standing at the stove, staring absent mindedly into a large pot. Glen guided me to a chair while Ben placed a bowl in front of me... The silence was awkward, but I preferred it to the conversation bound to happen once these strangers left my table.

As I looked at their faces, I realized I recognized one of them.

"Embry?"

He stopped eating briefly enough to grin, and swallowed thickly.

"How ya feeling, man? You weren't looking too _hot_ when we found you." He snickered. "Cause you–"

"Yeah, Embry, I get it. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Hey, your dad called Mr. Black freaking out, he asked us to come down."

"Right," I said distantly, and then to change the topic asked, "How is Jacob? Haven't really spoken to him since..."

Embry snorted. "Since you got wasted and tried to fight me and everyone in a ten foot radius and got your ass beat?"

I cleared my throat, hearing Matt snickering behind me. "Yeah."

Embry shrugged then, less animated than before.

"Truth be told I'm not really sure, we uh–" He glanced over at one of the other guys sitting there, a little older than the others. "We haven't been hanging out much lately.."

My gaze flickered between him and the other boys - no, men - at the table, understanding that something was being left unspoken. Their faces were tense, mouths set in hard lines. By contrast, Embry looked so young, and just as unsure as Glen had moments before when voicing his concern for me. I didn't like the tension that seemed to have come alive in the room around us. But they had just saved my life, and besides something told me my interference would not be welcome.

Glen nudged a spoon into my hand.

"Eat," he urged me. "It'll help warm you up."

"And you'd be missing out if you didn't," Embry told me. "It's the best thing I ever ate." He seemed to become suddenly aware that his dish was empty and stared forlornly at whatever lie in the bottom of his bowl. He sighed and pushed it away.

I began eating my own slowly as Ben refilled Embry's bowl.

"Good thing I made extras," he laughed."You guys eat like a pack of ravenous wolves."

Embry's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head as he began to choke on what could only have been a large chunk of potato. He was elbowed hard in the side by one of his companions. "Slow down. Jesus."

Charlie chose that moment to wander into the kitchen and lay his hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his face expecting the worst but he didn't look angry, only fearful.

"Okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "Tired."

"Yeah," Charlie said quietly. "I imagine so."

A heavy silence took over the kitchen. Glen finally broke it by ushering me out of the kitchen and up to bed. I heard Charlie thanking Embry and his... friends as we left. I collapsed into my bed, feeling the weariness in my bone marrow. Glen joined me after a moment, curling around my back.

"What's going on?" he whispered. "Let me help."

"Tomorrow," I assured him. It wasn't long until I was overtaken by sleep. This time, with Glen curled protectively around me, my mind slept too.


End file.
